


The Last Scion

by Elenduen



Category: The Musketeers (2014), d'Artagnan Romances (Three Musketeers Series) - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Dark Queen Anne, F/M, Hurt d'Artagnan, M/M, Mpreg, Past Mpreg, Royal d'Artagnan, Widowed d'Artagnan, d'Artagnan Whump, d'Artagnan is a single parent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-02-08 13:13:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 24
Words: 51,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12865236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elenduen/pseuds/Elenduen
Summary: What if in 1536 Eleanor of Austria second wife and Queen of Francis I King of France had at the age of thirty eight years old had born a child?.What if that child had been a girl and been quietly married to French Nobility rather than European Royalty?.What if this last branch of the Valois line had continued on through generations to a young man.Charles d'Artagnan the last scion of the house of Valois.How might Louis XIII react to this when d’Artagnan comes to Court?.Especially as Rochefort manipulates the situation making it appear that d'Artagnan is intending to place himself on the Throne of France so the Valois may rise once again and convinces Queen Anne that she and The Dauphin are in danger from him and his young Heiress Evony.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have developed a liking for d'Artagnan as royalty so here's another fic in which he's a Prince.
> 
> Dark Anne is something that I have considered since writing her as more true to the actual Queen Anne than the series/movie versions of her as she was quite a malevolent figure at times.
> 
> This fic was inspired partly by the TV/Netflix series Reign and The Tudors Anne Boleyn execution scene.

D'Artagnan's family tree

Francis de Valois I King of France - Married - Eleanor of Austria and Portugal  
|  
Zenaide de Valois  
|  
Zenaid de Valois - Married - Armand Comte de Montesquiou  
|  
Aurelien Montesquiou  
|  
Aurelien Comte de Montesquiou - Married - Jeanne Comtesse d'Artagnan  
|  
Henri de Montesquiou-D'Artagnan

Francoise de Montesquiou-D'Artagnan  
|  
Francoise de Montesquiou-D'Artagnan - Married - Alexandre d'Batz Seigneur de Castlemore  
|  
Charles d'Batz Seigneur de Castlemore Comte D'Artagnan, Future Comte Montesquiou.

 

Royal line of succession from Valois to Bourbon

 

Francis de Valois I King of France - Married - Claude Duchess of Brittany  
|  
Louise-died young  
Charlotte-died young  
Francis-died young  
Henri  
Charles, Duc Orleans died childless  
Madeleine, became queen of Scotland died childless  
Margaret, became Duchess of Savoy  
|  
After Queen Claude died Francis remarried

Francis de Valois I King of France- married - Eleanor of Austria and Portugal  
|  
Zenaide

Henri de Valois II King of France - Married - Catherine de Medici  
|  
Francis  
Elisabeth, became Queen of Spain  
Claude, became Duchess of Lorraine  
Louis-Died young  
Charles  
Henri  
Margaret, became Queen of France wed to Henri IV  
Hercules became duc du Anjou  
Victoria-died young  
Joan-stillborn

Francis de Valois II King of France - married - Mary Stuart Queen of Scots  
Francis died childless a year into marriage and his reign

Charles de Valois IX King of France - married - Elisabeth of Austria  
|  
Marie Elisabeth, died young  
With no legitimate Male offspring Charles had no heir on his death

Henri de Valois III King of France and Poland and Grand Duke of Lithuaia, assassinated a year into his reign unwed and childless. 

Henri de Bourbon IV King of France and Navarre - married - Margaret de Valois  
Margaret died young and childless

Henri de Bourbon IV King of France and Navarre - married Marie de Medici  
|  
Louis  
Elisabeth, became Queen of Spain  
Christine, became duchess of Savoy  
Nicolas Henri, died young  
Gaston duc d'Orleans  
Henrietta Maria, became Queen of England.

Louis de Bourbon XIII- married - Anne of Austria

 

Chapter One

 

In the year 1530 Eleanor of Austria and dowager Queen of Portugal married King Francis I of France. A second marriage for both parties and neither had any plans for offspring having already provided heirs for succession in their first marriages and with Eleanor’s age of thirty two she was not far from menopause which hit beta women earlier than Omegas.

However six years into their marriage a Pup was produced, an Omega girl whom the King and Queen named Zenaide.

While she was greeted with joy neither King or Queen had much use for an Omega, a female Omega at that whom they would have to provide a dowry for to marry off once she was of age.

Disinterestedly and sickening with syphilis Francis made some inquiries through out Europe for a suitable husband or mate for the Princess but before she was of age he died and his second born son Henry II came to the throne as the Dauphin had died some years previous. 

Wanting to consolidate his own rule, escape his wife and Queen Catherine de Medici so he could spend time with his long term Mistress Diane de Poitier Henry II did not focus on his younger half Ometa. 

While he could have used her to form a political match with one of the Princes of Europe he was not interested in doing so, he had offspring of his own to provide dowrys for and did not wish to stretch the royal coffers to provide for Zenaide as well so instead once she was fourteen years old he arranged a domestic union and had his half Ometa wed to Armand Comte de Montesquiou.

The marriage while arranged was a happy one though only one of their Pups survived to adulthood an Alpha by the name of Aurelien who wed the Beta Comtesse D'Artagnan Jeanne and two Pups were produced from their union, an Alpha boy Henri and a Beta girl Francoise. 

As Jeanne had no other family her lands became property of her mate when they wed and then passed onto their offspring, as a fair man Aurelien split the two Comtedoms between his two offspring, Henri inherited the Comtedom of Montesquiou and Francoise inherited D'Artagnan.

Both wed but sadly Henri's mate Elizabella died of smallpox just a year into their marriage leaving no offspring and so heartbroken was Henri he never took another bride or mate.

Francoise risked scandal and married a man of lesser station, a man who's family was barely enobled, The Siegneur de Castlemore Alexandre de Batz.  
All expected them to have a long and happy marriage with many Pups and children, one of whom Henri would name as his successor, however only one Pup survived infancy and Francoise passed away in her fifth child bed, the offspring following soon there after.  
The single surviving Pup was an Omega boy named Charles.  
A boy who inherited D'Artagnan from his mother, would inherit Castlemore from his Father, and Montesquiou from his Uncle, he would own almost half of Gascony and be one of the most powerful Nobles in France.  
All the more so as he had a direct blood line descent from the Valois Kings and a legitimate claim to the throne of France that was perhaps stronger even than Louis XIII. 

 

********************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

Heavy with his unborn Pup d'Artagnan had been unable to go to Stephan’s side even as his life had been leaving him. With the risk of infection so great both d'Artagnan's Father Alexandre and the Doctor had forbade his going to Stephan in case he were to take ill himself. 

Outside the bedroom he paced back and forth rubbing his back and cupping his eight month belly where his Pup restlessly turned and kicked.  
"It'll be alright sweeting" he whispered to his Pup with tears pricking at his eyes but at sixteen being widowed within a year of marriage he had no idea how it could possibly be alright.  
Unlike with most marriages d’Artagnan and Stephan had been a love match. 

Since he had such a huge inheritance and several titles d’Artagnan had not needed to wed an heir himself and Alexandre was not the sort of man who judged people on the size of their fortunes or titles.

Stephan was the third Alphon of a very wealthy Seigneur who’s eldest Alphon was his heir, his middle Alphon was in politics and Stephan had been promised to the Church until he and d’Artagnan had met one day when Stephan’s horse had shed a shoe and he had gone to the blacksmiths in Castlemore to have him reshod where he had met d’Artagnan who had been getting a sword forged for his Alphan’s birthday.

As poetic as it sounded it had been love at first sight, a whirlwind romance that their respective Aphans had supported and allowed them to wed.  
d’Artagnan had expected to lead a long and happy life with Stephan, to have many Pups with him and spend their days together travelling between his estates, raising their Pups and growing old together. 

Now however it seemed that this dream was about to end before it had even really begun.

How he was ever going to manage without Stephan d’Artagnan had no idea, right now it seemed impossible to imagine life without his mate, to bring their child into the world without Stephan waiting outside the birthing chambers ready to come inside and greet their Pup as soon as he and she was born. 

How could it be that just a few weeks ago they were excitedly discussing names and making final preparations on the nursery, the two of them all but inseparable, and now d’Artagnan was standing outside Stephan’s sick room unable to go to his side when he needed him the most?.

Running his hands over his flushed cheeks d’Artagnan took a deep breath trying to stay calm and not give into the desire to fall apart, if not for his own sake then for the Pup inside his womb.

 

 

Presently the door opened and Alexandre came out of the room a sad look on his face "I'm sorry love"

d'Artagnan rolled his lips over his teeth his eyes screwing shut as tears began to roll down his cheeks, Alexandre went to him immediately taking him into arms and holding him close  
"It's going to be alright" he said rocking d'Artagnan back and forth "I promise I'll take care of you and the Pup"

"It's not fair" d'Artagnan wept into his Father's chest "Stephan was good and kind and gentle he didn't deserve this!"

"I know" Alexandre sighed stroking his Omeron's head "But he will be with you, he'll be watching over you from heaven watching you and your Pup" standing a little way back from he placed his hands over d'Artagnan's belly "He or she needs you to be strong my love"

Sniffing d'Artagnan nodded his head his hands joining his Fathers "For the Pup he whispered taking a deep breath "Because that’s what Stephan would want, me to live and be strong for the Pup".

 

 

A month after burying his young mate d'Artagnan was laid up in his bed panting and crying out as the midwife told him to bear down  
"Stephan!" he cried out sucking in desperate gulps of air "I need Stephan!", tears of pain and exhaustion ran down his cheeks which were red from the hours he had spent in labour.  
He had tried to be strong over the last month, he had made himself go through his daily life, eaten well, taken care of himself for the Pup tried to not grieve too much since it was said that crying could have an ill effect upon offspring within the womb. He'd done as he knew Stephan would have wanted him to, but now in labour, pained and fatigued he couldn't stay strong anymore he was so tired and felt so very alone in this moment when he needed the assurance of a mate that his resolve to be strong and stoic fled from him making him cry out for Stephan though he knew that it was hopeless.

"Come one now bear down little one" the midwife instructed, she was sympathetic to d'Artagnan's plight, in a community as small as Lupiac everyone knew everyone and so of course she knew of Stephan’s death just a few weeks earlier leaving d'Artagnan alone to face his child birth and parenthood at the tender age of sixteen, barely more than a Pup himself, however while she did sympathise she had her work to do, bringing this Pup safely into the world was her first duty one that she would not shirk to offer comfort especially since d'Artagnan's life was at stake too.

Gripping the sweat damp sheets d'Artagnan closed his eyes, grit his teeth and pushed as hard as he could feeling the pressure of the push sliding down into the Midwifes waiting hands followed by a cough and a spluttering cry 

"An Alpha Girl my dear" the midwife declared cutting the cord and wrapping her up in a sheet to hand her to d'Artagnan who gazed at the small bloody bundle in bewilderment as she was lain on his chest, then his heart burst with an over whelming feeling of love such as he had never before known was possible. So different to his love for Stephan or his love for his Father, this was a primal and fierce love, there was nothing he would not do for this tiny bundle he held in his arms, the brand new life that he had brought into being from his own body.

So engrossed in looking at and caressing his new Alphter that he didn't realize that his Father had come into the room until he was on the bed besides him kissing his cheek and taking in his new Grandalphter  
"She's beautiful Charles, truly beautiful" 

"Evony" d'Artagnan said stroking her cheek with his finger "Evony Belle" he looked up at his Father at last with a smile "It was what Stephan and I chose for a girl"

"A good name" Alexandre agree trailing a finger down her cheek "Oh she's got your dimples, and the same mischievious glint in her eye that you have!, she'll keep you on your toes I'm sure!"

"She can keep me running in circles for the rest of my life I love her so" d'Artagnan said looking down into dark blue eyes that were inherited from Stephan "I won't ever let anything happen to you my darling" he whispered "I will keep you safe forever I swear".

 

Alpha Parent-Aphan  
Omega Parent-Oman  
Alpha son- Alphon  
Alpha daughter- Alphter  
Omega Son- Omeon  
Omega daughter- Ometer  
Male Alpha Nephew- Alphew  
Female Alpha Neice- Aleice  
Male Omega Nephew- Omphew  
Female Omega Neice- Omeice  
Alpha brother- Alphrer  
Alpha Sister- Alphta  
Omega Brother- Omerer  
Omega Sister- Ometa


	2. Chapter 2

Five years later

Harsh wet coughs racked Alexandre’s body making him lean forward from his pillows and almost double over as tried to clear his congested lungs. 

“Monseigneur?”

Alexandre flicked his gaze upwards and saw a white handkerchief being held out to him by his Valet Planchet, unable to speak due to the lack of air he was getting into his body he nodded his head in gratitude and accepted the handkerchief pressing it to his mouth as he continued to cough until he was able to breathe once more, though not with any ease.

Leaning back on his pillows Alexandre wiped his mouth and lowered the handkerchief folding it over quickly to try to conceal the blood staining the cloth, not quickly enough though, Planchet had seen it and he took the bloody cloth from his lord and master with a sorrowful expression.

“Something to say Planchet?” Alexandre asked coughing again to clear his throat 

“Should I fetch Doctor Lemay?” Planchet asked in return 

Alexandre shook his head “What would be the point?” he said not really asking the question, he knew, they all knew he had consumption and it was killing him, he had not left his bed chambers for weeks, was not even strong enough to rise from the bed without the aid of Planchet and others, just rolling over in bed took his breath now. There was nothing that the Doctor, that any Doctor could do for him, nothing anyone could do, save for a priest.

“Father Clement” Alexandre said fingering the large gold Crucifix at his neck 

“Yes Monseigneur?” Planchet asked 

“Have him close by Planchet” Alexandre said sounding calm, resigned to his situation, almost grateful for the fact his suffering would soon be over 

Biting his tongue and swallowing back his emotions Planchet nodded his head “Yes Monseigneur” he said as steadily as he could manage and firmly blinked back his tears, while it might not be considered right and proper for a servant to feel anything other duty to their master it was impossible for man not to become and to feel attached to his master after two and a half decades of service. 

Planchet had been a young lad of sixteen when Alexandre had taken him on as Valet shortly after he had become Seigneur of Castlemore. 

As a kind hearted, honourable Gentleman Alexandre de Batz de Castlemore was exactly the kind of employer that anyone would wish to serve, and Planchet was not exception having grown very fond of the man through out the years. So to now be loosing him to consumption was not something Planchet could face without feeling genuine grief at the coming loss.

However he was not so dramatic, nor would he ever consider it fitting that he show this before his master and so he swallowed back his tears and bowed to Alexandre and took his leave of the bedchambers that had in latter days become the sickroom.

 

Taking a deep breath to steady himself Planchet made his way down the corridor only pause and bow once more as the young Comte d’Artagnan, the Omeon of Alexandre turned the corner coming down the corridor towards him.

“Ah Planchet”

“Your Grace” Planchet greeted remained bowed until bidden to rise 

“How is my Papa today?” d’Artagnan asked 

Planchet tightened his fist about the handkerchief considering hiding it from d’Artagnan but the young Comte’s gaze was too swift and he sighed deeply 

“Is he worse?” he asked “Should Doctor Lemay be summoned?”

“No your Grace” Planchet said “Monseigneur has decided against the Doctor being summoned”

d’Artagnan rolled his eyes “Naturally!” 

Planchet paused biting the inside of his bottom lip, while he had not been ordered to keep this a secret he was about to reveal private information of his Master to the Comte and it was something that made him pause before doing so.

“I think your Grace should know that Monseigneur has asked that Father Clement be kept close at hand”

A sharp breath escaped d’Artagnan’s lips and he had to press them together to keep from crying out. 

He knew of course that his Father was dying, had known since the diagnosis that this was coming but it still seemed so soon, too soon.

Swallowing hard d’Artagnan nodded his head and forced a smile “Thank you Planchet” he said “Please see to it”

“Yes your Grace” Planchet said “And if there is anything I can do for your Grace…?”

d’Artagnan slowly shook his head and gestured for Planchet to continue on his way while he went to see his Father.

 

********************************************************************************* 

 

“Evony Belle d’Artagnan sit down and attend to your lessons!” Constance Bonacieux sighed in exasperation as her charge gazed out of the window of the school room to the gardens below clearly longing to be outside playing rather than learning reading and writing as she should be doing!

“Can’t I go and play now Madame?” Evony whined with a pout looking to her governess   
“No you most certainly can not now come and attend to your writing” Constance said firmly “Then you can go and play”

Somewhat sulkily Evony climbed down from the window seat and made her way over to her writing desk and sat down in the chair picking up her quill.  
“Will Oman be here soon?” she asked taking care to copy out the words that Constance had written for her in larger letters so they would be easy to read and copy from 

“Perhaps” Constance replied not committing to anything, she didn’t know if d’Artagnan would be with them soon or not, thought he liked to spend as much time as he could with his Alphter he was being pulled away by duty to the estate since his Father’s illness and so had to spend less time in the nursery than he would have liked.

“Is Grandpapa very ill?” Evony asked in her innocent way 

“Yes he is” Constance said sitting down besides her charge and gently pushed black curls behind the pups ear “So you must be a very good Girl for your Oman as he is very busy looking after the estate”

Evony paused in her writing and looked at Constance with a frown “Will Grandpapa die Madame?” she asked “Like Aphan died before I was born?”

Constance stiffened, really she knew she should have expected such a question, Evony was a very precocious Pup, very intelligent, she was not the sort to miss it when something was going on so for her to be asking this was really only to be expected especially since the situation with Monseigneur had become so severe.

However it was not her place to say yes or no to this question, it was d’Artagnan’s and while her employer was more a friend than employer, who had taken her on as Governess to give her position and security after the death of her husband had left her destitute two years before Constance would never think to take advantage of her position in such a manner.

Instead she smiled at Evony and tapped the parchment with her finger nails “Come on less questions and more writing” she ordered “You can save questions for later”

Pouting Evony did as Constance said turning back to her writing and missed the sympathetic look on her governesses face as Constance knew that soon the little Alpha girl would have her first experience with grief, and d’Artagnan would have his second.

 

********************************************************************************

D’Artagnan winced at the painful sound of Alexandre’s coughing as he sat perched on the side of his Father’s bed 

“Are you sure you don’t want Doctor Lemay to come Papa?” he asked as Alexandre struggled to catch his breath “He’s only in the village”

“No my darling” Alexandre panted, he gave d’Artagnan a weak smile and patted his hand “What I want is for you to be happy, and for my Grandalphter to have her Oman spend his time with her rather than at my bedside like a nursemaid!”

d’Artagnan narrowed his eyes and frowned at his Father “You’re not going to get rid of me by making weak attempts at scolding Papa, I know you too well” 

“Aye and we both know any attempts at scolding you never worked you were always a far too wilful and defiant, a complete brat!”   
D’Artagnan blushed and grinned, “Defiant Brat” had been a common nic-name in his youth!

“Well thank God your Alphter is turning out just like you!” Alexandre stated spluttering somewhat and coughing to clear his throat “Devine judgement that is!, God is evening the odds for me so you’ll know just what you put me through when you were her age!”

“Isn’t she just!” d’Artagnan sighed running a hand through his hair, he did love his Alphter, adored her in fact but dear God she was a handful and a half! 

“She’s hoping to go out on her pony today” he said “No doubt she’s giving Constance hell over being kept indoors to do her lessons instead of being allowed run off her energy”

“Well then take her riding!” Alexandre said slapping d’Artagnan’s knee (Gently) “It’s a lovely day from what I’ve seen so go out and enjoy it”, d’Artagnan glanced toward the window where indeed the sun was shining brightly with hardly a cloud in the sky, seeing his Omeon’s reluctance Alexandre squeezed his thigh drawing his attention back to him   
“Go on” he urged “And when she’s been sufficiently tired out and is ready for a story before a nap bring her up to me” 

This won the argument and d’Artagnan nodded, he leaned forward and kissed his Father before sliding off the bed and heading for the door “Do try not to give Planchet too much of a hard time while I’m gone” he said over his shoulder 

“I shall be the perfect angel and lay here reading” Alexandre promised 

“Hmm, I doubt that!” d’Artagnan chuckled, he blew a kiss to his Father and headed out, 

Alexandre sighed and lay back against the pillows panting hard and finally giving in to the pain inside his body now he was alone.   
With shaking hands he reached over to the bedside table and opened a wooden case taking out a vial of opium. Carefully he poured a single drop onto the pewter spoon also in the box and downed it. 

coughing to clear his throat and wincing for the constant painful rattle in his lungs he lay back down on the pillows and closed his eyes hoping to gather some strength from sleep before his Grandalphter was brought to him later.


	3. Chapter 3

Gascony 

 

Athos drew his stallion Roger up to halt and took off his hat to wipe his sweating brow and squinted in the sunlight  
“Damn this heat!” he complained “In Paris there is still snow on the ground and down here it’s like a damn laundry room!”

His fellow Musketeers Aramis and Porthos looked equally as uncomfortable in their heavy leathers and hats.

They had set out from Paris Ten days earlier in pursuit of the remaining rebels of an insurgent force lead by a former servant of The King by the name of Vadim which they had managed to stop eleven days before.

Most of Vadim’s followers had been slain during the attempt at assassination of their Majesties Louis XIII and Anne of Austria. However a handful had escaped and were in the process of fleeing to the Spanish border in the hopes that they would escape the Kings justice and find sanctuary outside France.

Treville Captain of the Musketeers had sent his best after them, Athos, Aramis, and Porthos.

Now ten days on all three men were tired and irritable having been riding hard, sleeping only a few scant hours and rising with the dawn to get back on the road. 

All were very keen to get this job done and get themselves back to Paris where they could enjoy a sleep in a bed rather than the ground, and a decent meal that was not salted meat, dried fruits, and hard bread or whatever game they could hunt on the road.

“Where in Gods name are we anyway?” Porthos asked looking around “I swear all of Gascony looks the same to me, green fields and sheep!”

“It is rather monotonous” Aramis mused taking off his hat and running his hand through his disagreeably greasy hair. As a fastidious man Aramis hated being dirty, for a soldier this was surprising since duty often led to getting dirty one way or another. Vanity might be a mortal sin but it was one Aramis was guilty of, he was proud of his appearance and as a natural flirt and a notorious libertine which the Omega’s and Beta women of Paris could attest to (As could their infuriated mates and husbands!), he always tried to look his very best. So to now be ten days without a wash let alone a bath or change of shirt, his hair so greasy it was limp on his scalp which itched uncomfortably he was not best pleased.

Porthos, having grown up on the streets of Paris as the Son of a freed slave had no such fastidiousness, he was very use to going without washing for extended periods of time, having only one set of clothes and making do even when he had out grown them or they had become thread bare and torn. 

However since becoming a Musketeer and having some money in his pocket Porthos had indulged in a long held desire to wear elaborate clothing. His doublet, while made of durable thick leather like all Musketeers were so it would survive wear and tear and offer some protection on the battle field, also had extensive punch work and metal studs about the high collar. 

Although while he was not bothered by the need to wash as Aramis was, he was very much looking forward to a good meal. Having grown up on the streets he never turned down food and had earned himself a reputation as a bottomless pit with the amount he could eat!. 

Athos in turn didn’t care for the lack of cleanliness, or poor food, his weakness was wine. He had spent the past five years as a functioning drunk, the joke about the garrison was that he had wine flowing in his veins instead of blood!. 

This joke had come from his rather unusual introduction to the Musketeers which had come about when he had single handed defeated and kicked the crap out of six Red Guards while completely inebriated!. 

When Treville had heard of this he had plucked Athos out of the Chaterlet where he had been deposited to await punishment, and brought him into the Musketeers. 

Having Porthos who unlike most of the Musketeers was not nobility and had no patron and had come into the Musketeers having worked his way through the infantry as a common soldier with very impressive if some what brutal skills, and Aramis the poetic, romantic, sharp shooter who had eyes as sharp as a hawk were the men Treville put Athos with. 

While well respected and liked among the Musketeers neither Porthos or Aramis were good at working with anyone but each other, they were terrible at following orders and frequently did as they wanted including getting into fights with the Red Guard and City Guard and anyone else they felt deserved a good kicking!. 

Feeling that these two misfits would be the perfect squad mates for Athos who’s skills with a sword spoke for themselves Treville placed them together as a unit which once they got over their initial dislike of each other became the best Unit in the Corps. 

How they over came this dislike had never been fully explained, but after a brief mission to Poitiers the three came back sporting a multitude of bruises and a new found respect for one another that became a friendship so strong that they were now known five years on as the Inseparables.

 

Replacing his hat on his head Athos turned to Porthos and answered his question of where they were.

“Just outside Castlemore I believe, ruled over by Alexandre de Batz” 

“How is it you always know this shit?” Porthos demanded 

Athos did not reply he merely turned back to look ahead and urged Roger on

“Ugh my backside is killing me!” Aramis complained “I swear it’s been damaged for life by all this riding!”

“I’d think with all the practise you get riding you’d be well use to it!” Porthos snickered crudely 

Aramis beamed proudly “Never let it be said that I leave a Lady or Gentleman wanting!” 

“Nah just plenty of husbands and mates cuckolded!”

The pairs laughter followed them as they rode after Athos who was riding across the plane heading towards what appeared to be a Castle in the distance, the residence of the Seigneur of Castlemore.

 

******************************************************************************** 

 

“Look at me Oman!” Evony yelled as she set her Landais Pony Rosalie onto a trot across the open land outside the castle walls

“Well done sweetheart” d’Artagnan called “Now remember what I told you, keep the reigns up but don’t pull on them hard or you’ll hurt Rosalie’s mouth

“Yes Oman” Evony said steering Rosalie as she had been taught 

d’Artagnan smiled watching her go and felt some of the tension he had been holding in his shoulders loosen as he relaxed into enjoying the leisure of just playing with his Alphter. However his short lived relaxation ended as the dogs at his feet Artemis and Apollo leaped up growling angrily their gaze pointed out into the distance where three riders were heading their way.

“Your Grace!”, the senior of the two guards with d’Artagnan and Evony drew his sword and stepped forward to protect him 

“Can you see who they are Jean?” d’Artagnan asked beckoning Evony to ride towards him and took Rosalie’s leading rope 

“Not from this distance your Grace, but Antoine has a telescope”.

 

Sure enough the second of the two guards had gone so ways down the hill and was squinting into the smaller end of the telescope.

“What d’you see man?” Jean barked anxiety for his charges making him short tempered 

“Three Riders Sir, all wearing the Kings Uniform!”

“Musketeers?”, d’Artagnan frowned and looked to Jean “What on earth would the Kings own soldiers be doing all this way from Paris?” 

“I no not your Grace but I think we should get you and her Ladyship back into the safety of the castle” Jean replied, he was one of the very few who knew that d’Artagnan was the last of the Valois and related to the King with a legitimate claim to the Throne. 

This was something that both Alexandre, and d’Artagnan’s Uncle Henri comte de Montesquiou had felt was kept secret from the rest of the world.

While the most ambitious of courtier would flaunt royal blood and relation to the crown in order to gain favour and position, they knew it was a double edged blade which could easily turn and slice off ones head. While Louis might welcome d’Artagnan as distant Kin and honour him as the last of the Valois who’s line of Kings had preceded his own line of Bourbon, he might equally perceive d’Artagnan as a threat. Already he was Comte of Artagnan through his late Mother, when Alexandre died he would inherit Castlemore, and when his Uncle Henri died he was inherit Montesquiou and as a result own half of Gascony, have an enviable amount of wealth in his treasury, and more than enough men at his command to be able to raise an army capable of being a match for the royal army even discounting the tenants he could also enlist to fight under his command. 

Knowing this Jean was not certain that the arrival of Musketeers onto his Master’s land was not something to be concerned about. 

d’Artagnan however was not convinced they were in any danger at all and refused to move   
“Surely if this were to be some kind of insurrection then there would be far more than three men”

“There could be others waiting Your Grace” Jean argued 

“Are there?” d’Artagnan called down to Antoine who was keeping a watch on the Musketeers and had also readied his harquebus to fire upon them if necessary 

“Not that I can see your Grace” he replied “Shall I ride down and meet them Sir?” he asked Jean 

“Hold your ground” Jean ordered “Keep a keen watch on them, if they draw weapons fire on them”

“Yes sir!”

“Jean!” d’Artagnan protested 

Jean bowed his head towards d’Artagnan, “I apologise your Grace” he said “But I will not take a chance with the safety of yourself or her Ladyship

d’Artagnan smiled and clasped the soldier’s shoulder “I appreciate that Jean and I am grateful for your diligence”.

 

Frowning down at the adults from her pony Evony tried to understand what was happening and why her fun had been stopped but the conversation was a little too complex for her to fully comprehend completely, however that didn’t mean she wasn’t curious.

“Are we in danger Oman?” she asked 

“No sweetheart” d’Artagnan said carefully lifting her off Rosalie and holding her secure as she wrapped her arms about his neck and her legs about his waist “We have Captain Jean Belfort to protect us don’t we?” 

“Captain Jean!” Evony cheered making the Soldier smile at her fondly

“The Musketeers are getting close sir!” Antoine called 

“Keep your weapon trained on them but do not fire unless I command it” Jean said marching forward “Keep me covered lad” he said to Antoine as he went past him 

“Aye Sir”.

 

*****************************************************************************

 

The Inseparables had of course seen the group in the distance as they rode and headed towards them, getting three quarters of the way up the hill before they were called to a halt.

“Who rides upon the lands of Alexandre d’Batz de Castlemore” the soldier with a Captain’s rank insignia demanded 

Halting their horses the Musketeers paused and Athos spoke out   
“Three of the Kings Musketeers on his Majesties business, we are in search of rebels who may have past this way fleeing towards the Spanish border. These men are traitors to the crown and must be brought to justice” 

“Rebels you say?” the Captain asked 

“Aye, they were part of an attempted assassination of The King and Queen near two weeks past” Athos said “I assure you Monsieur we mean no harm to your Master or his lands, we only wish to do our duty”

The Captain studied them for a moment before raising a lowering his left hand. From fifteen paces behind him a soldier rose from the long grass with an harquebus that must have been trained on them.

“Very well” the Captain said “You may be on your way, the village of Castlemore is but half an hours ride from here, you will likely find food and bed for the night and perhaps information on these rebels”

Aramis smiled and took off his hat “Thank you Captain, we appreciate your understanding”, as he went to replace the hat on his head he paused his gaze drawn over the Captain’s shoulder to where a young man was coming down the hill leading a very pretty girl on a pony 

“Your Grace!” the Captain protested 

“It’s fine Jean” the young man said and smiled warmly at the Musketeers “I am Charles d’Batz de Castlemore Comte d’Artagnan, Omeon of Alexandre”

“Your Grace!” the Musketeers immediately said bowing their heads in deference 

“In light of your mission I bid you welcome to my Father’s lands and insist that you come to the Castle and dine with me tonight”

Aramis and Porthos both looked eagerly to Athos keen to accept this kind offer of a good meal and a decent bed, under their scrutiny and certain of their wrath which could easily lead any number of pranks if he refused Athos inclined his head towards the young Comte

“We will be honoured your Grace” 

“Excellent” d’Artagnan said “Antoine will you please go ahead of us an alert the servants to make up rooms and have wine and cakes ready?” 

“Certainly your Grace” the soldier said with a salute 

“Gentlemen” d’Artagnan said “Please follow me”.


	4. Chapter 4

Castlemore   
Alexandre was pulled out of an uneasy sleep by the joyful sound of his grandaphlter running down the hall and calling out to him at the top of her lungs.

 

Smiling in spite of the pain in his lungs Alexandre sat himself up and smoothed back his hair to greet Evony as she burst into his room.

“Grampere!” 

“Hello little one and what have you been doing today?” he asked as she scrambled up onto the bed and climbed into his lap 

“Been riding!” she proudly declared “Oman took out and let me ride Rosalie” 

“Did he now?” Alexandre said “Well you’re a lucky girl aren’t you?”

Evony hummed and nodded her head happily 

“And did you have a good time?”

“Yeah! And I got t’meet Musk’teeahs!” Evony declared mangling the name but pronouncing it enough for Alexandre to understand her and stiffen with concern 

“Musketeers are here?” he asked, the question was asked gently so as not alarm Evony however he spoke not to her but to his Valet Planchet who had come in after Evony and was standing silently at the wall. 

“Three Musketeers Monseigneur. His Grace has invited them to dine and stay with us while they are on the Kings business” 

“And what exactly is The Kings business on my land?” Alexandre asked with the muscles of his jaw twitching 

“They are searching for rebels who escaped Paris several days past” Planchet said “They are likely heading for the Spanish border and may have sort refuge in Castlemore along the way”.

 

Alexandre sighed and tapped his knuckles against the duvet. 

He had no reason not to believe the Musketeer’s story, nor could he really deny them passage through Castlemore as they sort to apprehend the rebels they were pursuing, however he was not happy about having them here in such proximity to his Omeon and Grandalphter.   
Keeping d’Artagnan away from Court had been the wisest course of action he and Henri de Montesquiou had taken, the boy would have been in constant danger there or those who would try to use him and his connection to the throne for their own ends, and from those who would attempt to poison the Kings mind against his distant cousin and making him see d’Artagnan as a threat,. 

Keeping him far from Paris and safely in Gascony was the only way the two of them had thought to keep him safe and Alexandre was damned if he was going to risk the boys safety now!. 

“Make sure to show the Musketeers every courtesy but do not let them wander unsupervised while they remain here” he ordered Planchet who inclined his head in acceptance “And tell my Omeon I would like to speak with him before he dines tonight”

“Yes Monseigneur”, Planchet bowed, turned, and went to go and down his masters bidding leaving Alexandre alone with Evony who looked up at him with a frown

“Are you mad with Oman?” she asked curiously 

“Of course not little one” Alexandre reassured her “I just need to talk with him that’s all”, he smiled brightly and bounced her on his lap making her giggle “Now come one tell me all about your riding and how well your doing with Rosalie…”

 

*******************************************************************************

 

For the past five years d’Artagnan had not bothered much about his appearance. 

Without his husband and having no interest in looking for another mate he had neglected his looks and his wardrobe to the point where he was in sore need of a hair cut and new clothes. 

His hair was easily dealt with. 

After he bathed he sat before his mirror and had his maid trim his hair to just above his shoulders taking out the dead and tidying him up some what. 

 

His clothing however was not so easily sorted. 

 

The majority of his best breeches and doublets the ones fit to wear at court had all been let out during his pregnancy, having panels added to them to accommodate his belly. 

After he had given birth to Evony he had still been grieving over Stephan and still been dressed in mourning black so had not bothered to have his clothes altered to fit once he had lost the Pup weight. 

Since he had come out of mourning he had worn simple leather breeches with linen shirts and leather or doe skin doublets not bothering with the fine satins, velvets, and silks that lined his wardrobe, the most of which were now too lose for him to wear. 

“Looks like I have a very little choice” he sighed eyeing the contents of his wardrobe, the maid by his said nothing, she didn’t have to, the look on her face said it all!.

“Bugger it!” d’Artagnan muttered selecting one of the few doublets that was not leather and was not too large for his frame. 

A royal blue doublet of satin with a gold sash from the right shoulder. 

It was meant to be worn with a pair of gold satin breeches but when the maid pulled them from the wardrobe she and d’Artagnan discovered that the seams at worn a hole on the left thigh that could not be repaired in time. 

“Crap!” d’Artagnan cursed looking to the other formal breeches that were available one in black silk and the other in purple satin neither of which would work with the blue doublet. 

“Perhaps your dark blue leather breeches your Grace?” the maid suggested 

D’Artagnan’s nose wrinkled, satin and leather would look a bit odd but if he wanted to wear something more fancy tonight then it would have to do. 

“Very well” he agreed stepping back from the wardrobe, “But not the my boots” he added making the maid pause as she took the breeches from the wardrobe “I’ll wear them with my gold stockings and gold dancing slippers”

“Yes your Grace” the maid agreed laying the breeches on d’Artagnan’s dresser 

“Stephan always said my legs were my best feature” d’Artagnan mused as he stood still for his maid to dress him, first in his ecru shirt, then his breeches tucking his shirt in and securing his braces, the doublet next with the sash smoothed over his torso. 

Then d’Artagnan sat down for the maid to slip the stockings onto his legs and secure them under his breeches just above the knee and finally slipped the golden slippers with the inch and a half heel onto her masters feet and secured the buckle. 

She sat back and smiled “Beautiful Your Grace”

d’Artagnan rose from the chair and went to the mirror to see for himself. 

It had been a long time since d’Artagnan had seen himself dressed up and he was quite startled by the change in appearance. He was older now of course, his cheek bones were higher, his facial features more defined and sharpened, what little puppy fat he’d had was long since lost and had been replaced by a healthy layer of lean muscle. 

When he had fallen pregnant he had barely been out of Puphood, his body all long skinny limbs with a colt like shape. Now he had more of an omegan shape, his hips curved and the hint of roundness to his chest. 

He was not as voluptuous as Omega’s tended to be, he did not have the dramatic curves some had, especially the female Omega’s, but he could now not be mistaken for a Beta, the curve of his hips with the narrowness of his waist created a subtle hour glass shape that was purely Omegan.   
“Not bad” he said to his reflection wondering what Stephan would have thought of him now, how he would be now if he had his Husband still at his side. 

Well he certainly wouldn’t be dressing up to impress another Alpha that was for sure!.

Why he was doing this he wasn’t certain, but he did feel something stir within him when he thought about the Musketeer Athos. 

There was something…, intriguing about Athos, the man was clearly of a Noble back ground, the way he spoke, his mannerism was that of someone who’d had the benefit of a tutor and had been schooled in etiquette. Both were too well ingrained in him to have been learned recently through royal service, he had been born into Nobility that d’Artagnan was sure of, a second or third Son he suspected, not going to inherit and so having to make his own way in the world. 

But there was more to it than that d’Artagnan was sure. Athos had an air of melancholy about him, a past pain that he carried within him, keeping him distant from the world as if he feared further pain. 

Why he felt this way d’Artagnan longed to know, some part of him wanted to learn what pained Athos and to soothe that pain, wanted to become intimate with Athos in a way that d’Artagnan had never expected to feel again after he lost Stephan. 

What he would do about this he wasn’t sure and it left d’Artagnan with butterflys in his stomach as he left his chambers and went to see his Father before dinner. 

 

His change in appearance did not go unnoticed by Alexandre who commented on it as soon as his Omeon was through the door.   
“You look very nice” he drawled looking d’Artagnan over and sniffed the air “You smell nice too” he added snuffing the perfume scenting d’Artagnan’s skin “Looking to impress someone?” he asked raising an eyebrow 

d’Artagnan blushed and shifted uncomfortably “No Papa I am just being hospitable”

“Hmm so I hear” Alexandre said coughing into his handkerchief “Allowing Musketeers into out home”, his eyes narrowed on his Pup, it wasn’t that d’Artagnan was showing an interest in Alphas again that bothered him, in fact he would applaud it, d’Artagnan was too young to be a widow for all his years. It was the fact it was a Musketeer who had caught his eye, Musketeers were too close to the throne for him to be comfortable 

“Take care Charles” he said firmly “I do not begrudge you some enjoyment, God knows you’ve been lacking it for many years, but I beg that you do nothing rash…,” he broke off with a hacking cough prompting d’Artagnan to get him a drink of water from the bedside table and guided it to his lips. 

His brow creased as he saw a reddish tinge in the water as Alexandre pulled away, blood from his mouth brought up from his lungs coughing. 

“Promise me” Alexandre panted as he wiped his mouth with his handkerchief, his voice heavy and breathing laboured as he spoke around the congestion   
“Promise me you will be careful” 

“I promise Papa” d’Artagnan said replacing the glass on the table and made his unwilling mouth smile at his Father “Would you like me to stay with you for a while?, I could read until you fall asleep?” 

Alexandre smiled and shook his head “I am tired my darling” he whispered “I will take a nap before Planchet brings me my dinner. You go and entertain our guests and give them my apologies for not attending”

d’Artagnan would have argued but the look on Alexandre’s face brooked no such arguments and spurred d’Artagnan into compliance with the request. Gently he kissed Alexandre’s forehead, his hand lingering for a moment on his too pale cheek 

“I love you Papa” he whispered quietly 

“And I you my darling” Alexandre said “Now go and have a good time”

Fighting back the urge to cry d’Artagnan swallowed hard and did as he was bid, heading down to the dining hall where his guests would be waiting for him. 

**************************************************************************

 

Athos, Aramis, and Porthos had been shown every courtesy at the Castle, the horses stabled, groomed, and fed. 

They had each been given rooms of their own, had baths drawn for them along with wine and small cakes brought to the rooms for them to dine on before dinner. 

Aramis and Porthos were in high spirits as they went into the dining hall. 

Aramis was happy to be clean and presentable once more while Porthos was thrilled to have eaten more than rations or game.

Athos himself was feeling odd, out of sorts. 

He did not know why he was feeling like this, why his stomach was fluttering, why there was a dryness to his mouth, why his concentration was lacking. 

He could think of no reason for it. Not until the usher announced the arrival of their young host and the Comte D’Artagnan glided into the hall. 

Then as his blood seemed to rush south and his heart skipped several beats Athos exactly why he felt like this. 

“Oh Hell” he muttered under his breath, he was attracted to the young Omega Comte!.


	5. Chapter 5

Castlemore

As she had already been fed her dinner in the nursery and was getting sleepy as she was allowed to play with her dolls before bed Evony had been left in the care of a maid freeing Constance to join d’Artagnan at the dinner hall. 

This was in part to act as Chaperone. 

It was not really fit for an Omega to entertain three Alphas without someone else present, preferably a family member but with his ill health Alexandre could not be available, so as Governess and minor gentry Constance was the next best thing. 

Like d’Artagnan she too enjoyed the opportunity to dress up for once.

When she had been widowed the majority of her best wardrobe had been sold to help settle some of the debts, the cloth of gold, the brocaded satins, and embroidered silks had all been taken leaving her with only a token few gowns left to wear that were not black for mourning or simplistic and functional gowns without embroidery. 

 

She dug through her chests and pulled a pretty blue and cream gown of damask out, shaking off the sashes of lavender that had been put away with the cloth to keep it fresh and chose a clean shift of white to wear beneath it. 

Like d’Artagnan without the company of potential suitors she had gotten out of the habit of making herself up, had not bothered with make up or elaborate hair styles in quite some time so it took her a while to settle on a hairstyle and to choose make up. 

In the end she settled on wearing her hair half braided and secured in a neat knot at the back of head with some of her thick red curls coming over her left shoulder. 

She blushed slightly when she met d’Artagnan at the stairs to go down to the dining hall and he gave her fine attire an appraising look, however since he was dressed up himself she did not blush over much.

Together they entered the dining hall and went to the table taking their places before the Musketeers. 

The head of the table with the highbacked chair was kept vacant. That chair was for The Lord himself not d’Artagnan though his title did trump Alexandre’s. 

d’Artagnan instead took the lesser chair besides his Father’s with Constance on his right. 

“Athos, Aramis, Porthos, may I present Madame Constance Bonacieux, my friend and governess to my Alphter” d’Artagnan said as he sat down and lay his napkin over his lap “Constance, the Kings Musketeers”

Constance dipping a shallow bow of respect to them and smiled warmly “Pleased to meet you gentlemen”

“Enchanté Madame” Aramis all but purred reaching over the table to take Constance’s hand and lightly kissed her knuckles, looking up at Constance through impossibly thick eyelashes and a half smile playing on his handsome features Aramis exuded sexuality from the very pores of his skin!, his charming smile and warm eyes were heated by lust and desire. 

Were she younger then Constance might have been fooled into thinking that Aramis had fallen head over heels in love with her. However she was a grown woman and knew that such a smile, such an unrepentant amorous look did not come from one who was not very well practised at such games. 

Oh Aramis was no doubt a gentleman. 

He would be gentle in his approach, would no doubt make her feel like a Goddess as he made love to her, but like any hunter once the prey was caught and the chase was over Aramis would loose interest, he would dally only for a time and then he would be gone and Constance would have risked pregnancy and her reputation for one who could and would never marry her.  
So as charming and attractive as he was she did not fall for the charm and merely smiled back at him and retracted her hand. 

 

The Musketeer on Aramis’s left, Athos did not smile, his expression remained stony and his eyes were down cast for the most part, though Constance saw them occasionally flicking up to look at d’Artagnan before swiftly darting away again. 

Amusingly d’Artagnan seemed to be doing much the same himself shooting surreptitious glances at Athos before averting his gaze with colouring rising in his cheeks.   
A blossoming romance perhaps?.

Constance smiled to herself as a portion of fresh trout was placed onto her plate by the servers.

Well why not?.

Like herself d’Artagnan was young and widowed, he deserved happiness once more and Constance got the sense that Athos was of Noble stock so it would not be a match unbefitting the young Comte. 

Reaching for her wine glass Constance’s gaze fell upon the Musketeer on Aramis’s right and found her fingers freezing about the cup as her blue gaze was caught by warm coffee coloured orbs. 

Porthos was not a man Constance would have normally been associated with, unlike Athos with his refined manners and Aramis with his easy charm, Porthos was an unapologetic commoner. 

His manners were well enough to be in company, he had learned how to hold a knife and a fork, how to sit at a table and cut his food, but unlike Athos and Aramis he was made uncomfortable by having others waiting on him, stiffened with a server reached to fill his cup or add something to his plate, had to restrain himself from simply doing it himself. 

He sat rather stiffly in his chair looked vaguely uncomfortable to be dining with nobility, high Nobility at that.   
Many would say Porthos was uncouth, that his obvious modest upbringing, and of course the colour of his skin made him unfit to be in the presence of those of higher birth. Constance however found herself struck by him. 

There was something breath takingly refreshing about Porthos. He was not refined and polished, did not hide himself being fancy clothes and a cultivated accent, he was an open book, showed who he was with pride and made no apologies for himself. 

There was an interesting scar over his left eye that Constance was intrigued by, wondered how it came about, certainly it did not detract from his handsome features so much as it added to them, giving him a slight rakish look. 

Smiling now Constance lifted her glass and sipped slowly, “Monsieur” she said to Porthos “Have you been in the Musketeers for very long?”.

 

Surprise coloured Porthos’s features. 

He had never expected to be addressed by a noble or gentry, generally they treated him as if he did not exist, so to have Constance speak directly to him was startling to say the least. 

“I umm, yes My Lady, I mean Madame!” Porthos stammered, besides him Aramis snorted amused as his tongue tied stuttering, a hasty kick to his friends ankle wiped the smirk off his smug features and Porthos smiled at Constance.

“I was in the infantry first, earned myself a reputation and caught Captain Treville’s eye, he selected to promote me himself”

“Quite a dramatic rise then” Constance said eager to hear more “And are you from Paris?” 

“I am” Porthos said “Born and raised on the streets in fact…”.

 

*********************************************************************************

 

While Constance and Porthos settled in to talk d’Artagnan summoned his courage to make conversation with Athos.   
“It must be exciting to serve as a Musketeer” 

Athos glanced up from his plate his eyes wide with surprise at being spoken to, as he stared at d’Artagnan’s beautiful face any reply he might have had drifted from his mind and he found himself staring as if one struck dumb. 

Aramis rolled his eyes and came to rescue with a charming smile for d’Artagnan to make up for Athos’s lack of speech.

“It has it’s moments your Grace, though a lot of the time it is simple routine more than it is excitement”

“d’Artagnan please”

“d’Artagnan” Aramis said curling the name about his tongue making it sound like a seduction, he carefully lowered his lashes and gave d’Artagnan a sultry smile which had the colour rising in the young Omega’s cheeks

d’Artagnan was not use to flirting, he had been married to his childhood sweetheart, had not spent time at court learning double talk, flirtation, and seduction, so with Aramis’s attention on him he felt very flustered all of a sudden and flattered.

Aramis allowed himself a momentary spell of congratulation for his success in charming the pretty Omega, but only a moment as he felt a sharp pain in his right foot which Athos’s boot was pressing down on, hard!.

Aramis rose and eyebrow at his friend who glared at him, dear God if looks could kill then Aramis was certain he’d be dead and buried!, Athos might not be growling in a show of Alpha claim but the dark look on his face spoke volumes, as far as he was concerned Aramis was to consider d’Artagnan off limits or risk having his knot removed!. 

Aramis smiled congenially at Athos and lifted his wine cup to take a sip and decided to risk engaging d’Artagnan in further conversation since Athos seemed incapable of doing anything but glaring or gaping!.

“What about you d’Artagnan?” he asked choking on a wince as Athos’s full weight bore down on his foot!, “We are just three old dull Alphas will little to tell of ourselves and we would be glad to hear of a young vibrant Omega like yourself”  
Aramis only just managed to supress the wince as Athos ground his heel into his foot and drove his elbow into Athos’s side in revenge!. Athos grunted and glared at him but he did remove his boot from Aramis’s foot!.

 

d’Artagnan however did not see the discomfort Aramis and Athos were causing each other, he smiled pleasantly to Aramis as he replied  
“I have very little to speak of, I am merely a quiet widow raising his Alphter in the country”

“You are very young to be a widow”

This was the first Athos had spoken and it brought surprise to d’Artagnan, a pleasant surprise though, 

“My husband died just a year into our marriage” d’Artagnan explained “Tragically he passed a few weeks before Evony was born and so he never knew her”

Aramis shook his head “That is indeed tragic. But you are young and beautiful, surely you will not remain alone for the rest of your life”

“I am not alone, I have Evony” d’Artagnan replied “And as for marriage ?, will it would take a very special Alpha to make me consider such a thing again”

“You should come to court” Aramis said “You’d certainly brighten things up there”

“I think he is wiser staying away from Court” Athos said shooting another dark look at Aramis clearly telling him to back off!, “Keeping away from all the gossip, the social climbing, and back stabbing” he gave d’Artagnan a warm look “You are well away from that here, and the better for it I would wager”

d’Artagnan felt warmed by the look and he appreciated Athos’s honesty too 

Aramis however shook his head “He’s too isolated here though, he should be dancing and courting, and enjoying his youth”

“I enjoy my life here” d’Artagnan said “And as for youth?, well I am an Oman, my Alphter must come first in all things”

“And she is certainly a credit to you” Aramis said “And to you Madame Bonacieux”, Constance glanced up from talking with Porthos, “Tell me, will your mate be joining us tonight?” 

Constance shook her head “Like d’Artagnan I too am widowed Monsieur”

“Ah I apologise” Aramis said but Constance waved him off 

“Ours was not a marriage for love” she admitted and looked to d’Artagnan with a smile “And I have found myself happiness here” 

d’Artagnan shared the smile for a moment then shook his head “Enough talk of Widows, let us have some music!”, he beckoned to one of the servers “Send for the musicians, I wish to dance after we have dined”, taking a chance he looked to Athos “May I be so bold as to request a dance Monsieur?” 

The heat flooded Athos’s cheeks and he felt the eyes of everyone in the room upon him, he had not danced once in the past five years but he could not refuse such a request, not without hurting d’Artagnan, and certainly not without making himself heartless, so he swallowed his reservations and nodded his head in acceptance and quietly prayed that he would not make a fool of himself.

 

********************************************************************************

 

To Athos’s relief he had not lose his skill in dance even after five years of being out of practise. 

The tune the musicians played was one that was familiar to him and it was a slow measure rather than one with a lot of jumps or complicated turns. 

d’Artagnan was also an easy partner to dance with. He was graceful and moved lightly on his feet making it a simple matter for Athos to lead the dance. 

Taking a chance as the tune drew to a close he took d’Artagnan into a spin and dipped him back holding him by the waist and the back of the neck.

Their eyes met and locked together as he slowly drew d’Artagnan back onto his feet, neither took their hands off each other as they continued to gaze into one another’s eyes seemingly transfixed. 

Slowly Athos finally broke the hold and took d’Artagnan’s hand, bowing forward he lifted it to his lips and kissed his knuckles lightly but as he did so he breathed in the sweet scent of a fertile Omega and felt it heat the blood in his veins and stir his long dormant knot. 

There was no denying this now, not even to himself, he was attracted to d’Artagnan and wanted him as a mate.


	6. Chapter 6

Village of Castlemore

They had no coin with which to purchase a room or even a single plate of food and glass of wine so they had to make do with sleeping in doorways and barns with one of them on watch to wake the others come dawn so they could slip away before the owners of the doorsteps and barns awoke and chased them off. 

The last thing they needed was to attract attention to themselves, if they were to survive then they had to remain hidden or they would be lost. 

All five of them were injured, they had not escaped the fray in Paris within wounds and after weeks of being on the run, having to scavenge for what food they could find, either by hunting and using up their last few shots, picking pockets to gain a coin or two to buy a loaf of bread, or picking half rotten left overs from rubbish piles they had all lost weight they could ill afford to lose, were malnourished and sickening. 

Christophe’s leg was stinking of the grave, the flesh about the bullet wound had turned black and the limb was swollen up three times it’s normal size. 

Filipe’s right arm was useless after a bullet had shattered his shoulder, it hung limp at his side and caused him agonizing pain. 

Sasson’s knife slash across his stomach continued to weep blood and refuse to heal no matter how hard they tried to bind it tight. 

Lisle and Barton both had sword wounds themselves Lisle to his thigh and Barton across his left hip and his shoulder. 

They however were healing from their injuries, the wounds having closed over and showing no signs of infection, so they were acting as the “Hunters”, going out to forage for food and help move their companions from place to place since neither Christophe or Filipe could walk unaided. 

“How the hell are we to reach the Spanish border like this?” Sasson hissed at the two fittest among them “We know we’ve got Musketeers on our tail, they won’t keep missing up forever!, not unless we pick up the pace!”

“I bloody know that don’t I?” Lisle grunted “What am I s’pose t’do ‘bout it?”

“We could nab a few ‘orses, that’d get us t’Spain quicker” Barton offered 

“Oh aye that’d really keep us from bein’ noticed wouldn’t it!” Lisle sneered “Christ sakes Barton if yer can’t think up anythin’ intelligent t’say keep yer hole shut yeah!”

“Fuck you” Barton snarled stuffing the last of his bread into his mouth 

“Wait a moment Barton’s idea might not be such crazy” Sasson said “We need to move fast, horses are the way to do that”

Lisle spat on the ground and sneered at him “Have you seen the old nags in this piss hole of a town?, we wouldn’t get three friggin’ paces from the pissin’ Musketeers before we were caught on that lot!”

Lisle did have a point, the majority of the horses in Castlemore as it was a farming town were just farm horses used to pulling ploughs and too large to ride, the smaller beasts were of poor stock and not likely to be able to manage the harsh speeds they needed. 

“They ‘ave good beasts at the castle” Filipe said drinking the last of the wine they had to try and ease the pain he was struggling with “We could go in the dead of night, take a couple and head for Spain” 

“Raid the Castle Stables, are you mad?” Lisle snarled rising to his feet looking disgusted 

“Where are you going?” Barton asked 

“Some where you pricks ain’t” Lisle snapped heading out into the streets hoping the walk would help cool his temper a little. 

 

********************************************************************************

 

Castle of Castlemore 

 

Alexandre strained to take his breath deeply as Dr Lemay ordered, dark spots danced before his eyes as he sat forward making his head spin and ache. 

“Alright you can sit back now Monseigneur” Lemay said taking away the ear trumpet 

“It’s time isn’t it?” Alexandre rasped falling back onto his pillows with relief.

 

To his credit Lemay did not offer lies or false hope to him he merely gave him a sympathetic expression.

“How long?” Alexandre asked, he was beyond fear now, was resigned to his fate, and considering the past months of pain and indignity death would be a blessing for his suffering to be over

“I can not say for sure” Lemay said “But I do not think that you will live out the week, I would advise that you see the priest and make your peace with God sooner rather than later”

Alexandre nodded and chuckled “I made that peace several weeks ago Doctor, or as much peace as I can make with a God that takes me from my Omeon so young and leaves him so vulnerable”

“From what I know of your Omeon Monseigneur he is very resilient and capable” Lemay said with a smile, he had been the physician who had tended d’Artagnan as he had delivered Evony. 

As d’Artagnan had been so young and so slender the midwife had feared that she may not be able to safely deliver the Pup alone so Lemay had come with her to help if needed. 

Despite his narrow hips d’Artagnan had managed to deliver Evony without the need of medical intervention beyond some stitching post birth, and his endurance for pain had very much impressed Lemay during the long hours of his labour. 

The two had become quite close during the labour, considering the fact he was baring himself completely to the Doctor, d’Artagnan had felt the need to engage in some comradery to make himself more comfortable. 

In a quid pro quo Lemay had quite revealing about himself, surprising d’Artagnan by the fact he was not a Beta as first thought but an Omega!.

 

It was exceptionally rare for any Omega’s or Beta Women to have true professions, many worked of course but as labourers on farms, milk maids, wet nurses, stable hands, scullery maids, bakers assistants and such, they did not hold skilled intellectual positions as very few of them were educated. 

Lemay’s Aphan however had been Doctor himself and quite a prosperous one, he’d been able to put his Omeon through the Sorbonne and Geneva, and had taken him on as an apprentice until he retired and Lemay took over from him. 

While he did not out right lie about his sex he also did not advertise it, a Beta male drew less attention to himself than an Omega male did, and people took what Beta males had to say far more seriously than they did Omegas, their beliefs and ideas were not dismissed as the ramblings of weak flighty minded creatures who were capable of doing nothing but looking pretty and having Pups. 

While not averse to the idea of having a family of his own one day Lemay was not in a hurry to do so, he enjoyed the freedom he had as a single Omega being able to please himself, if there was someone he would one day bind himself to then they would have to be someone very special indeed.

 

Alexandre chuckled weakly 

“Aye he is that” he agreed “But still I fear for him Doctor, I fear for his safety, he is so very young and will be so very alone. His Uncle is not a young man, he too will soon die and then Charles will own half of Gascony, a quarter of France, will be a beacon to every ambitious Noble looking to wed him and get their filthy paws on his wealth and land!”

“I doubt they will have an easy job in wooing the Comte” Lemay said “He is not foolish and will not let himself be taken in by a silver tongued treasure hunter”

“I know, but there are so many ways an Omega can be pressured and there will be no one left to protect him” 

Lemay wanted to protest that he, Constance, and all those that knew and loved d’Artagnan would protect him but he knew that was not what Alexandre meant, he was referring to the power of a Noble who’s voice would carry weight where a commoners would not.

“Where is he anyway?” Alexandre asked “I have not seen him today?”

“I believe he rode out this morning with the Musketeers to go to the village along with several Castle guards” 

Alexandre chuckled and shook his head tiredly “Ah he craves adventure, well at least he’ll be safe with that many swords at his side”, he sighed and gave the Doctor a small smile “I need to rest” he said “I would like to have my energy when my Omeon visits me this evening” 

“Of course” Lemay said bowing his head and taking his leave 

Alexandre lay back against the pillows and stared him at the ceiling “Please God” he whispered “Care and watch over my Omeon when I am gone, keep him safe from any and all harm”.

 

**********************************************************************************

 

D’Artagnan lead the way to the village with Athos riding just a pace behind him flanked by d’Artagnan’s guards and then Aramis and Porthos who had been the biggest pains in Athos’s backside since the dinner the night before. 

He swore if Aramis quoted one more bloody sonnet or Porthos gave him one more dirty leer he’d either commit double murder or suicide!. 

Sadly though this teasing did nothing to ease the urges he was feeling towards d’Artagnan, feelings that grew all the more intense when he was near the young Comte. 

The scent of his body, the dark depths of his eyes, the healthy glow of his skin, all of it was a potent magic that was bewitching Athos more and more by the day!.

As Comte de la Fare he had the rank to court d’Artagnan and propose marriage, as a widower he was free to do so, but his past, the horror of his first marriage had him holding his tongue. Both out of fear of being hurt again, and out of a desire to keep his past from tainting d’Artagnan. 

 

d’Artagnan himself was also feeling the same urges as Athos. His sleep the night before had been restless, filled with erotic dreams that had him tossing and turning in his sheets and waking panting with a pounding heart and wet thighs. 

Aside from his heats he had not thought of an Alpha since Stephen, had not even contemplated a dalliance with anyone. Athos however…he was overwhelming to d’Artagnan, so very different to the open book Stephen had been, older of course and more experienced, with a past the obviously haunted him. 

Were it not for ill health of his Father and the need for him to remain completely above any scandalous gossip then d’Artagnan might have thrown caution to the wind and just made his desires known to the Musketeer even if it only led to a brief encounter before they were parted. 

But as it was he had to keep a respectful distance, he could not afford to become embroiled with anyone less than a Noble who was considering marriage lest he be shamed and possibly lose his lands if he was thought to be unfit to maintain them. 

 

As they reached the village Captain Belfort spoke, “The Inn will likely be the best place to begin the search Your Grace” he suggested “They may have sort beds there, or sustenance” 

“Good thinking Captain” d’Artagnan said slowing Zad and dismounting to go through the village on foot, “We’ll allow you and your friends to speak to the Inn keeper and his staff, this is your investigation after all Monsieur Athos” 

“Thank you Your Grace” Athos said formally, he resolutely kept his eyes from meeting d’Artagnan’s as he too dismounted his horse. 

 

As they walked through the streets the villages paused to bow heads and dip curtsies to the Comte receiving a smile in return from d’Artagnan as he went past them leading Zad by the reigns. 

Among the villages Lisle huddled himself in his cloak shielding his face and watched the Musketeers intently, the guards and the Comte too. 

His friends were right they did need horses to escape to Spain and the best horses were kept at the Castle, what’s more they needed gold, enough of it build themselves new lives in Spain, what better way to get that than to ransom a Comte?.


	7. Chapter 7

Both Sasson and Barton went for their weapons when Lisle burst into their hide out panting from running. 

“What fuck man?! Sasson cried “You tryin’ t’get us t’kill yer?” 

Lisle ignored him in favour of grabbing a sack filled with water and drinking deeply. Once he had sated his thirst he placed the stopper back in the sack and wiped excess water from his lips with his sleeve and grinned at the men before him. 

“I’ve found our ticket out of here”

Barton rose an eyebrow and glanced at Sasson who scowled at Lisle 

“The little Comte is in town” Lisle went on, “The little Omega of a very rich estate, what better way for us to get out of this shit hole and line our pockets than to ransom the little whelp bitch?” 

Sasson stared at him as if he had gone mad, Barton laughed and shook his head 

“Have you been spending the entire day on the piss?” he asked 

“No have you?” Lisle spat back in disgust, “C’mon, this is our best chance of getting out of here, we have no other option”

“No other option but to get ourselves shot!”

Lisle glared at Barton “We’re gonna get shot if we sit here and do nothing, I know this is a risk but if it pays off then we’ll never have any worries about money ever again!, we can buy decent horses and go to Spain and we’ll have wealth enough to build ourselves decent lives!”

Barton snorted and shook his head clearly thinking Lisle was out of his mind, Sasson however frowned 

“You may be right” he murmured

Barton snapped his head up looking incredulous 

“This little bitch could be the best meal ticket we’ve ever had” Sasson went on, “We can’t afford to pass it by”

Lisle smirked nodded his head 

“You got a plan?” Sasson asked 

“I do” Lisle said stepping forward and opened his mouth to explain…

 

********************************************************************************** 

A day spent trawling the drinking holes and boarding houses of Castlemore was not exactly pleasant. 

The smell alone was enough to put Aramis’ nose out of joint and he complained loudly about his clothing smelling of stale alcohol, grease, and sweat on the way back to the Castle until Porthos aimed a swipe at his head and Athos gave him a steely glare that promised him a world of pain if he didn’t soon shut the hell up!. 

“Just because you two don’t care about looking nice!” he grumbled to himself, from behind him he heard d’Artagnan laugh and turned giving the young Omega his most charming smile 

“I’m sure you give great concern to such things your Grace, you could not possibly look so beautiful without putting hours into your appearance!”

d’Artagnan rose an eyebrow his cheeks flushing with surprise

“Dear God you’re like a randy dog!” Porthos grunted while Athos contented himself to merely growling under his breath and gripping his reigns so tight his knuckles were turning white!

“Actually I do not spend time on my appearance” d’Artagnan said “I have an Alphter to care for”

“Then you are truly the most incredible natural beauty I have ever seen!”

d’Artagnan giggled and dipped his head his cheeks burning like embers, he knew that Aramis was just flirting with him but he had so little experience of such things that d’Artagnan did not quite know to respond. 

That said it did not mean that he didn’t find Aramis’s flirting enjoyable, especially since it had Athos glaring at the other Alpha and all but frothing at the mouth!.

 

The bantering continued all the way back to the Castle and probably would have continued through the Castle too but the arrival of another Omega with the most startling green eyes Aramis had ever seen had him silenced and just staring at the Omega in awe. 

“Dr Lemay?” d’Artagnan said his good humour slipping away “Is it Papa, he’s not worse is he?” 

Doctor Lemay sighed rolling his lips a little, “His condition has deteriorated since I last examined him” he said not wanting to lie to d’Artagnan even though he knew that the truth would hurt him   
“I do not think he has very long left your Grace” he said slowly and in a soft voice “A few days at the most”. 

A sharp gasp shook d’Artagnan’s body and he swallowed hard to keep from crying out and determinedly blinked tears back from his eyes, this might be devastating but he knew better than to make a show of his emotions, such a thing was not fitting for one of his station, he would have time to weep when he was alone in his bed, while in company he had to keep his composure. 

“I am sorry I do not have better news for you Your Grace” Lemay said   
“No it’s alright Doctor” d’Artagnan said in as steady a voice as he could manage “I thank you for your honesty”  
He inhaled sharply and held out a shaking hand to the Doctor which Lemay shook “I’ll go and see him now” d’Artagnan said 

“He may be sleeping” Lemay cautioned 

“I can sit with him anyway” d’Artagnan said, he turned to the Musketeers “Please ask the servants for anything you require”

“Of course, and if there’s anything we ca…” Athos began only to break off as d’Artagnan turned and headed down the hall as if he hadn’t spoken at all 

“Poor kid” Porthos murmured with a deep sigh “He’s so young”

“Too young” Lemay said “Anyway I should be on my way”

“Oh yes Doctor…Lemay?” Athos said 

“Interesting name!”, finally Aramis had found his tongue and gave Lemay his most charming beautiful smile “For a very interesting Man Doctor Lemay, not many Omega’s ascend to such heights, it is very impressive”

Porthos groaned and rolled his eyes, he tapped Athos on the shoulder and the two of them headed off leaving Aramis to work his wiles on Lemay who was looking impassively at him 

“Forgive me Monsieur but I do not know your name”

“Aramis, Rene d’Herblay de Aramis, and your full name is?” 

“Doctor Lemay!”, the Doctor gave Aramis a glacial smile and lifted his bag which he had placed on the floor by his feet when he shook d’Artagnan’s hand “Now I must me on my way, have a nice day Monsieur Aramis”

“Wha…wait a second! Aramis babbled more than a little shocked at the blatant dismissal that Lemay had just given but the Doctor was already heading off down the hall leaving him standing there utterly gobsmacked, never in his life had anyone ever blown him off like that, his smile and gift of the gab always worked a treat and soon had Omega’s and beta women, and a few Alpha and Beta men turning to putty in his hands!.

This Doctor however was more like a steel bar than putty and Aramis felt completely flummoxed and very intrigued and all the more motivated to pursue the enigmatic Omega. 

 

*********************************************************************************

 

d’Artagnan spent most of the day with Alexandre. 

His Father slept, his breathing harsh and laboured, coughing shaking his body even as he slept. 

d’Artagnan held his hand stroking his knuckles and watching as his Father’s eyes moved under the lids, he wondered what Alexandre dreamt, if it was of the paradise he would soon be going to, if it was the past when he had been Evony’s age and they had played games together. 

He could remember running about the estate as a Pup, fighting dragons, pirates, bandits, and all manner of foes with his wooden sword!, going on secret quests to find buried treasure, or to rescue a Princess!. He always liked it best though when his Papa joined in the games with him, searching for the treasure, and fighting the pirates with him. 

His whole life he’d had his Father by his side when he’d needed him, when Stephen had died he’d been his rock, had helped d’Artagnan stay strong and get through the pain. He’d been able to talk about anything and everything to his Father, everything he had ever needed his Father had provided and now he was facing losing him, was facing being on his own for the first time in his life and he had no idea how he was going manage. 

“I’m gonna miss you so much Papa” he whispered to him using his free hand to wipe his cheeks as tears rolled down them, “I know you’ve prepared me for this, educated me, protected me, secured me as much as you could but I am scared Papa, I’m scared of losing you, of being on my own”

Sniffing hard he got down onto his knees and bowed his head quietly praying to the blessed Virgin to intercede on his behalf and have God not take his Papa from him for just a little while longer. 

 

*******************************************************************************

 

Athos did not sleep well, between bad dreams and alcohol he frequently only managed a few hours of intoxicated unconsciousness before he woke in a cold sweat desperately needing a piss. 

While being in someone elses house he could not indulge as much as he normally did so it was perfectly understandable that he would be up and wandering the dark Castle halls at night. 

What was not quite so understandable was d’Artagnan also being up and pacing the halls. 

d’Artagnan had not seen since they arrived back at the Castle, he had not been present for the nights meal or been heard from at all, having spent the time with his Papa. 

 

Curious as to why the young Comte would be awake now when it was getting on for midnight, and concerned for him with his Father in such a state. 

Quietly Athos approached him “Your Grace?” 

“Christ!”, d’Artagnan placed a hand over his heart and let out a soft laugh “You made me jump”

“Sorry your Grace” Athos said “I just….are you alright?”, he couldn’t see d’Artagnan’s face too clearly in the dim light of the torches but he could see enough to know he’d been crying and he wanted to comfort him, to wipe away his tears and hold him close, keep him safe from further pain

D’Artagnan sighed and shook his head “My Papa’s dying, I’m all alone but for an aged Uncle leagues from here, I have an Alphter who is dependant on me and I…I don’t know if I can do this”, he took a shuddering breath and hurriedly wiped his face “Sorry” he apologised “I should not be talking to you like this”

“It’s perfectly fine your Grace” Athos assured him, daringly he reached out and placed his fingers under d’Artagnan’s chin lifting it up so they were looking in each others eyes “I too know what it is to lose those you love”

d’Artagnan stared into Athos’s eyes, tears still shimmering in his own, he rolled his lips and forced a weak smile as he took a breath “Would you mind doing me a favour?” 

“Of course, I am at your disposal” 

“Would you escort me about the estate, I can’t sleep and I think a walk will do me good” 

Athos straightened and held out his arm “It would be my pleasure your Grace”

With his smile extending into a full grin d’Artagnan happily took Athos’s arm and together they went to walk the grounds unaware of the bandits secluded outside the Castle walls hidden in the darkness waiting to strike.


	8. Chapter 8

Moonlit walks are always considering romantic and this was no exception. 

The soft light from the torches outside the castle and the moon and stars above created the perfect mood for a pleasant stroll for courting couples. 

Athos and d’Artagnan were not courting of course but both were well aware of the setting they were in, and all too aware of their bodies reactions to each others. 

While not a virgin obviously since he had an Alphter, d’Artagnan was still very sheltered. 

Stephen had been the only Alpha he had ever lain with, ever courted, so apart from what he had heard people say and what he’d read in bawdy novels he knew very little about courtship, and even less about the primal physical reactions Omegas and Alphas could elicit in each other even outside of heat. 

For him it was something that brought a light blush to his cheeks to find himself becoming wet between his thighs and his insides fluttering as if he had swallowed a dozen butterflies when Athos pressed close to him and the scent of virile potent Alpha filled his nose. 

His body was in it’s fertile prime now, it was ready to bear litters, eager to do so in fact, every heat that went unfulfilled hurt just a little more than the last, the courses that followed three weeks later were heavier than before, his breasts would ache and nipples sting in the days leading up to his course giving him a dull parody of when he had been carrying Evony and they had been heavy with milk. 

It was during those times he found himself longing more and more for another Pup, and for an Alpha to share his life with. 

 

Athos too was struggling deal with the unwanted affects the pheromones were having on him. 

His cock was in a state of semi hardness that would not abate, his mind would not settle enough to allow him to rest, hence the fact he had been up and about, and when he had slept he’d been lost in violently erotic dreams that had left his sheets a mess and his inner Alpha roaring with impotent unsatisfied desires. 

Having d’Artagnan on his arm as they walked the grounds was not helping with this, the primal instincts in him were screaming at him to claim the young Omega, to make him his. 

A lesser Alpha, one of looser morals with no regards for anything other than their own satisfactions might well have given into the impulse and laid claim to d’Artagnan, willing or no. 

But Athos was not that sort of Alpha, he would never debase himself so, and as uncomfortable as he might be he would continue to suffer on in silence rather than risk upsetting or offended the young Comte. 

 

“Do you know anything about Astronomy?” d’Artagnan asked looking up at the stars 

“A little” Athos said rather startled by the question “I can point out a few constellations for you if you’d like?” 

d’Artagnan nodded eagerly and let go of Athos’s arm so he could point them out 

“Those three bright stars there are Orions Belt, and I’m sure you’re aware the brightest Star is the beautiful Venus”

“Yes” d’Artagnan whispered gazing up into the night sky 

“Now look this way, you see that Cluster of blue stars in the distance?” Athos said pointing to the sky “That’s The Pleiades, they are in the Constellation of Taurus”

“They’re really pretty” d’Artagnan murmured looking at the bright blue stars twinkling in the sky “There’s the plough as well isn’t there?” he asked 

“Yes and that is….there look”, Athos pointed out the stars to him and allowed himself a brief moment to breathe in d’Artagnan’s scent as the Omega pressed close to him   
“They are part of Ursa Major, The Great Bear” he whispered into d’Artagnan’s ear “In Greek Mythology the Bear was Callisto, once a virgin maid of the Goddess of the Hunt Artemis, but she was seduced and made pregnant and so cast out of Artemis’s circle and changed into a Bear by Hera. When a hunter nearly killed her Zeus had her moved to the heavens and made into the stars of Ursa Major”

“Zeus!” d’Artagnan chuckled “He was forever having affairs wasn’t he?”, he turned his head and his face was just inches from Athos’s, their lips almost touching they were so close, it would be so easy to just lean forward and place a kiss on Athos’s scarred lips…

Athos hummed an affirmative response while eyes were lost in the dark pools of the Omega’s eyes that flicked from his eyes to his mouth. Athos swore he could hear both their hearts beating, becoming in sync with each other to form a hypnotic rhythm that drowned out any other sounds. 

Timidly d’Artagnan leaned forward unable to stop himself from being drawn to Athos, he held his breath and closed his eyes not wanting to see the Alpha’s reaction as he initiated a chaste but lingering kiss. 

For a moment Athos did not react, he stood stud frozen, stunned, to shocked to be able to move or speak, then as d’Artagnan began to pull away he leaned into the kiss wrapping his arms about the Omega and opening his mouth to chase d’Artagnan’s lips with his tongue and nip gently at his bottom lip with his teeth.

d’Artagnan gave a startled yelp at the sudden response but swiftly began to reciprocate and began to run his hands up Athos’s strong shoulders feeling the impressing muscle beneath the skin, Athos might not be as tall as Stephen had been but he was broader in the shoulders, and older too, more experienced and worldly, both of which excited the young Omega who was opening up like a flower to Athos's skilled ministrations.   
As the kiss grew ever more heated Athos slipped a knee between d’Artagnan’s legs pushing his thigh against the Omega’s sex making d’Artagnan stiffen and grind his hips against him hungrily. 

With a growl building in his throat Athos lifted d’Artagnan effortlessly up, moving to back him against the nearest surface but as he did so a burning pain struck his thigh causing his legs to give out making him stumble to the ground taking d’Artagnan with him!.

D’Artagnan landed on his backside with the wind being knocked out of him in a huff for a moment he though that Athos had just stumbled, but only a moment as he saw in the dim light the Alpha trying to pull a dagger from his right thigh where it was embedded half way to the hilt!

From out of the darkness three men came with weapons drawn ready to fight. 

Leaping to his feet d’Artagnan drew his sword and charged them. 

He parried to the first man to reach him and kicked his shins to throw him back while he tackled the second man blocking his sword thrust with ease and slashing him across the chest making him howl in pain!

The third man stayed back, one of his arms wrapped about his abdomen as if he were protecting it from harm, or further harm if there was an injury there.

While skilled with a sword d’Artagnan had never been in an actual fight and left himself too open to attack from behind when distracted by another opponent which the first man took full advantage of delivering a vicious kick to the back of d’Artagnan’s knees knocking his legs out from under him and sending him to the ground with a cry. 

The night guards having heard d’Artagnan, Athos, and the second mans cries were alerted by now and mobilizing for trouble, shouts were coming from within the grounds along with the sound of hurried footsteps

“Come on Lisle we have to go!” Sasson yelled

Lisle didn’t reply, instead he grabbed d’Artagnan about the waist and lifted him up making the Omega roar in fury and kick out managing to hit Barton in the face with the heel of his boot which shattered the mans nose in an explosion of blood! 

“You’ll pay for that you little bitch!” Lisle snarled struggling to keep hold of the Omega who continued to put up a fight and managed to get an elbow in the mans gut knocking the wind out of him, “God sakes one of you get his legs!” he yelled at Barton and Sasson who bothered dithered clutching their injuries, not that it mattered anyway as Athos yanked the dagger from his thigh and threw it squarely into Lisle’s back!

Favouring his leg Athos rose to his feet drawing his sword and advancing on the three man with a face like thunder, “I rather think it’s you who will pay Lisle not the Comte” 

With the breath forced out of him and a blinding pain in his back Lisle had fallen forward dropping d’Artagnan who scrambled away retrieving his sword ready to defend himself, panting he looked up at Barton who was clutching his nose, and risked a glance at Sasson but he was already running as fast as he could to escape!

“Coward!” Barton bellowed his voice distorted by his broken nose, “Damn you Lisle, and Damn Vadim to hell!”, with a roar he raised his sword and charged on d’Artagnan. 

 

Gripping the hilt of his sword tight d’Artagnan rolled over and flipped back to his feet blocking Barton’s strike and parrying his thrusts. With Barton already injured and loosing yet more blood his reflexes were slow and his strength weaker giving the Omega the advantage with his swifter more agile movements. Evading each thrust Barton clumsily made against him easily d’Artagnan let the fight go on for a few minutes more, letting Barton grow more and more tired before he knocked the sword from his hand with a thrust right through Barton’s wrist!.

The man howled in pain and dropped the sword clasping his free hand about his wrist to try and stem the bleeding as blood poured from the wound, a second later a hand seized hold of his hair and a sword blade was at his throat 

“Stay still and I might let you keep breathing for a while longer!” d’Artagnan said to him 

“Why bother!” Barton snorted “I’m dead, if I don’t bleed out then I’ll be hung anyway!”

“Your problem not mine” d’Artagnan replied keeping firm hold of him and watched with open admiration as Athos, wounded to the thigh took down Lisle with impressive grace and skill, while he had all of an Alpha’s aggression he tempered it, kept it under control and used it with caution and skill rather than brutal force. 

Lisle did not have such skill, he was nothing but a thug who’d built a little skill at using his fists and swords in back alley, not a real battle like Athos had, so when faced on even terms he was no match for the Musketeer and was swiftly beaten down and Athos’s sword plunged through his heart. 

 

As Lisle toppled to the ground Athos turned his attention to d’Artagnan who was keeping hold of Barton, “Are you alright?” he asked 

“Me!?” d’Artagnan cried “You’re the one who was stabbed!” 

Athos grimaced and glanced down at his thigh just as he name was bellowed by Porthos and dear God there was no mistaking that bellow anywhere!

“Your Grace!” came another cry and d’Artagnan rolled his eyes recognising the captain of his guards voice as well 

“We’re alright Jean thank you” he called back “We have a prisoner though, he needs medical attention, and one mans dead, another got away”.

 

Aramis, Porthos, and the Guards reached them a few seconds later with the Captain ordering a couple of soldiers to take care of Barton and see to his wounds, he wasn’t wasting a Doctors care on a man who was certain to hang anyway! 

“Are you hurt your Grace?” he asked looking d’Artagnan over worriedly, clearly expecting to find bullet holes and knife wounds!

“I’m fine” d’Artagnan insisted “It’s Athos who’s hurt!”

“I’m fine too!” Athos protested only to get a slap round the back of the head from Aramis 

“How many times have I told you not to hide injuries?” Aramis yelled at him 

“More times than he’s passed out from wine I think!” Porthos grunted, it was too dark for him to see the sour look Athos shot him but he didn’t need to see it to know it was there!

“He was stabbed in the back of the thigh” d’Artagnan said “If you bring him to my chambers I’ll clean and dress the wound myself!”

“Your chambers?” Aramis asked a hint of incredulousness in his voice, he inched forward to whisper to Athos “Just what were you two doing out here all alone at night?” 

Athos glared “If you wish to keep that lascivious tongue inside your head swiftly learn to hold it!” 

Porthos’s amused and dirty chuckle didn’t help Athos’s threat one bit, and it certainly wasn’t aided by the huge Alpha hefting him up like a sack of potatoes and hanging him over his shoulder!

“If you’ll lead the way your Grace!?” he said to d’Artagnan 

“Yes of course” 

“I’ll have Men search for the third man” the Captain said “I apologise that they were able to get so close to you” 

“Not your fault Captain” d’Artagnan assured him “And Athos and I were able to handle them between us weren’t we?” 

“More or less” Athos agree from where he was hanging unceremoniously over Porthos’s shoulder “Will you put me down you Oaf!” 

“Sure, when we get you inside so you don’t do further harm to yourself!”

“You’ll pay for this Porthos!” Athos swore “I won’t forget this I promise you that!”

 

*********************************************************************************

 

Sasson ran as fast and as well as he could. 

The wound on his stomach had opened up again and was bleeding profusely, sweat was beading in his hairline and rolling down his forehead. 

He felt dizzy and sick, he longed to stop, to just fall down to the ground and rest, but he knew if he did that then he would never rise again. 

What he was going to do now, how he would manage to get Philip and Christophe out of this Gascon hell hole he had no idea, but he had to try to do something. 

In any case he couldn’t just stop, there were Castle Guards after him now and they would be on horseback, if he wanted any chance of escape then he had to keep moving or he would be lost.

 

********************************************************************************

 

Aramis insisted on checking the wound to Athos’s thigh before he left in “D’Artagnan’s Gentle Hands” as he phrased it making Athos growl with the menace of a ravening wolf, once he was satisfied that it was just a flesh wound and wouldn’t require needle work just cleaning and dressing he departed but not before he gave Athos a cheeky wink and blew him a kiss on the way out!.

Having ordered dressings, boiled water, lemon, and alcohol brought to his rooms d’Artagnan carefully and diligently cleaned the wound to Athos’s thigh, flushing a little at the fact he was seeing Athos with his breeches off and the Alpha was laying on his bed!.

“You fought well” Athos said wanting to distract himself from the pain of the stinging the lemon and alcohol was causing 

“I got caught off guard” d’Artagnan said with self-chastisement “If you hadn’t been there watching my back then they’d have…well whatever they wanted with me”

Athos could have buried d’Artagnan’s doubts under flattery, puffed up his belief in himself by compliments on the fact he took Barton down, but the swords man in him, the soldier in him wouldn’t do that, wanted to point out the flaws to d’Artagnan to help him improve his skills so he wouldn’t make the same mistakes again. 

“You tend to leave yourself open, you fight with skill but you only attack you don’t defend, you need to be able to defend yourself or you risk being harmed”

Drying Athos’s wound d’Artagnan bit his lip and looked up at him “When you’re legs better can you show me what you mean?” he asked 

Athos blinked in pleasant surprise “I’d be delighted”, They shared a smiled and d’Artagnan carefully began to bind Athos’s leg in a secure dressing 

“You’ll sleep here tonight” he said then blushed as he realised how it had sounded “I mean…just sleep”

“I figured that” Athos said with a hint of a smile before drawing a breath “About…what happened, the kiss…I should apologise”

“Why?, I initiated it” d’Artagnan said moving away the water and lemons 

“Yes but I’m older than you and this…it can’t be..I am not a suitable partner for you”

d’Artagnan set the bowl down on the table and dipped his head, as much as he wanted to argue this he knew what Athos was saying was true and to fight it would be useless, so rolling his lips inward he nodded his head and forced a smile onto his face as he turned back to Athos “You get comfortable, I’ll sleep on the chaise tonight”, he walked away before Athos could protest at him giving up his own bed and went into his parlour curling himself up on the chaise in foetal position and closed his eyes tight to prevent tears from falling down his cheeks.


	9. Chapter 9

Neither d’Artagnan or Athos slept well that night. 

Both were too high strung by their denied passions for their bodies to gain any real chance at slumber. 

d’Artagnan rose from the chaise just before dawn, washed himself swiftly in cold water from the ewer and dressed in plain clothing, before leaving the chambers. 

Athos watched him from the bed, his eyes tracking the movements from beneath his lashes. 

He longed to call out to the Comte, to have him come and join him in the bed, which smelled heavily of the young Omega’s scent. 

This did nothing but throw fuel on the already raging fire of Athos’s ardour. 

Breathing in the heady scent of a fertile Omega all night had left Athos hard and aching with desire, a desire that must remain unfulfilled. 

Nothing he had said last night had changed, he was still too old for d’Artagnan, too jaded, and too embittered to mate with such a young Omega. 

d’Artagnan needed someone his own age, someone who’s youth and vitality would compliment d’Artagnan’s own. 

So as much as it hurt Athos, and by God it did hurt him, he had to remain steadfast in his determination to keep himself from d’Artagnan. 

 

Groaning he threw back the bed covers and put his legs over the side of the bed, letting out another groan as the door was knocked

“What?” he called out, too out of sorts to be polite this morning

Instead of getting an answer the door was opened and both Aramis and Porthos came in. 

“Where’s the Comte?” Aramis asked looking around the chambers, clearly expecting to find the Comte there, which made sense since it was d’Artagnan’s chambers that Athos was occupying

“He left a while ago” Athos said rising from the bed 

Aramis’s eyebrows rose and he cast an amused glance to Porthos who met it and snickered

Athos rolled his eyes “Get your minds out of the gutter!” he chided “Nothing happened, now what do you want?” 

“The last of the brigands have been found” Porthos said “They’re hold up in a barn in the town”

“We thought you’d like to come with us to see their arrest” Aramis said shrugging 

Athos straightened up, his jaw set firm, “Give me five minutes, then make ready to ride”.

 

*******************************************************************************

Alexandre turned his head on his pillow and gazed at the light coming in from the window. 

It was a pale light, the cool light of the dawn, yet he felt warmed by it, heartened. 

Something had changed during the night. 

He could not put his finger on what it was, but he felt that something was different. 

 

Slowly, but confidently he rose from the bed and set his bare feet upon the cool stone floor. 

He didn’t quite know where he was going, nor why he felt compelled to go there, but go he must, and with unsteady, but determined footsteps he left his bed chambers and made his way down halls of the castle that had long been his home. 

 

As he walked he fancied he could hear laughter and joyous delight coming from a child, at the corner of his eyes he saw ghosts of the past. 

He saw little Charles still in dresses, learning to walk. His tiny hands held within Alexandre’s to keep him upright as he took shaking, uneven steps. 

He saw Charles as a youth, face hairless and unmarked by grief, beaming a smile as bright as the sun as he learned to use his sword. 

He saw Charles in the flush of love with his husband Stephan, that young Alpha who had been taken from the world far too young. 

Through the halls the ghosts of their past selves ran hand in hand, laughing and red cheeked, falling into each others arms, losing themselves to their passions which lead to Evony. 

Ah yes, little Evony Belle. 

Alexandre saw d’Artagnan shortly after Evony had been born, carrying her to breast, his expression one of wonderment at the beauty of his babe. 

 

These scenes, and many more carried Alexandre through his journey from the confines of the castle and out into the gardens. 

The open air, the sunlight, the beautiful flowers with their colourful faces turned up to catch the light of the early morning sun. 

Here Alexandre ceased his walking and sat down on the grass, the damp of the dew soaked through his night gown but Alexandre did not care. 

He felt peace here, contentment, this was where he would remain, this was where he would die. 

 

**********************************************************************************

 

D’Artagnan rode with the Musketeers to join the Castle guards at the barn in which the brigands were hiding. 

Naturally a crowd had gathered, the villagers were curious as to what was going on, but were keeping a safe distance so they would not be caught in any crossfire if a fight broke out. 

“What’s happening?” Athos asked the Captain of the guard, dismounting from Roger 

“Fool’s are refusing the surrender, they are making demands!” the Captain spat looking truly disgusted 

“Why ain’t yer jus’ burned ‘em out?” Porthos asked 

“They claim to have gunpowder” one of the guards said in response to this, “We can’t risk an explosion”

d’Artagnan frowned and stepped forward, “What are the chances that they genuinely have gunpowder?” 

The Captain shrugged, “I would say that it is unlikely, but there is a chance they are telling the truth”

“And what are their demands?” Aramis asked 

“Free and safe conduct to the Spanish border, enough gold that they may build themselves a new life, and horses to carry them on their journey” 

Porthos snorted at the demands, a sentiment that Athos, Aramis, and d’Artagnan clearly shared 

d’Artagnan sighed “Are they willing to negotiate?” he asked the Captain, who nodded his head 

“Then I shall buy time with negotiation” the Comte said with a smile, and turned his gaze to Athos, “While you and your fellow Musketeers find another way into the barn and see if their threat of gunpowder is real or not”

Athos rose his eyebrows, he was not use to being given orders by an Omega, not military orders anyway, however, he could not say that this was a bad plan, he doubted the criminals did have any gunpowder, but the risk to the villagers could not be dismissed. 

“Very well” he agreed nodding to Aramis and Porthos 

“Been a while since I ran over roof tops!” Porthos commented falling into step with Athos 

“Just try not to break your neck!” Aramis said 

“Never mind my neck, it’s my pride I worry for!”. 

 

As the Musketeers went to make their way to the roof of the barn, d’Artagnan went to stand before the doorway, flanked by his guards. 

“I am Comte Charles d’Artagnan, I am here to address your leader and parley with you,” he looked to the Captain and whispered to him “Is parley right?”

“It is your grace” the Captain confirmed 

“I am the leader!” a voice called out from the barn, a weak and tremulous voice spoken by a sick and weary man, not a courageous and fearless leader “I do not parley, I demand!”

d’Artagnan barley resisted rolling his eyes, this was like talking to a petulant child in a strop! 

“What are your demands?” he asked as patiently as he could manage, out of the corner of his eye he saw Aramis and Porthos crawling over the roof tops, Athos he assumed was behind the barn. 

“I want free passage to Spain!” the man cried doubling over in a coughing fit which left him breathless by the time it had past,  
“I want money, gold ducats, a Kings ransom to build a comfortable life for myself and my friends, and the finest horses in your stables to carry us to Spain”

“Why not ask for the Throne of Saint Peter and be done with it!?” the Captain’s second in command snorted under his breath, while the Captain shot him a glare, d’Artagnan chuckled and turned his gaze upwards to where the Musketeers were peering through the cracks in the wooden roof 

“Such great demands can not be carried out immediately” d’Artagnan countered, buying time 

“I need a chance to confer with my Father, to agree upon an sum of ducats”

The man in the barn cackled a laugh that brought about another coughing fit 

“I forgot that you are nothing but decorative cunt!” he spat, the guards murmured in anger at the slur against d’Artagnan but he held up his hand, warning them from taking any rash action 

“Go to your Father bitch!” the man sneered “Bring him and his treasury here, or I promise you I will raze this town to the ground!”

 

d’Artagnan looked to the roof, meeting Aramis’s eyes, the Musketeer shook his head, across from him Porthos mouthed “No Gunpowder”

Smiling, d’Artagnan looked to the Captain, “Take down that door and bring them out!” 

The Captain drew his sword, “My Pleasure!”

 

The breaking down of the barn door only took as single kick from one of the guards, and no true fighting followed. 

The man who’d been speaking was the only one capable of putting up a fight, and even that was a weak and pitiful thing. He had lost too much blood, hardly had the strength to stand let alone swing a punch. 

He was dragged out and thrown to his knees before d’Artagnan, the two other men had to be carried out, they were too injured to move under their own steam. 

“Mercy!” the man, Sasson pleaded “Show me mercy!”

“Show you mercy?” d’Artagnan asked incredulously “What of your friends?”, he gestured to the two men who were too weak to even stand, “Do you not wish for them to have mercy?” 

Sasson spat on the ground, “They will die soon anyway, they do not need mercy from any but God”

d’Artagnan let out a scoff and shook his head “You are beneath contempt,” he said turning away from the man “Look not to me for mercy for I have none, your friends I will have tended by a physician, and if death is truly imminent for them then I will have them attended by a priest,” he looked back to Sasson, “You will face the justice of King Louis XIII, and may God have pity upon you, though you deserve none”, turning on his heel he marched away from Sasson, walking to the Musketeers who had climbed down from the roof 

“He is your problem to deal with now” he said “I will keep him in our dungeons one night, and one night only, then I want him gone from my lands”

As he spoke this d’Artagnan did not meet Athos’s eyes, or look at his face, he kept his gaze over the Alpha’s shoulder to spare himself the sight of the face of the Alpha who had refused him.

Athos felt the dismissal for what it was, a demand for himself to leave and never return. 

He knew it was for the best, much longer in the Omega’s company and he would not be able to control his growing feelings. But, it hurt, and would continue to pain him for some time yet. 

“We will depart in the morning” he said in a rough voice “And remain thankful for your hospitality”

d’Artagnan nodded his head, he made to go to his horse Zad but a young page from the castle came riding into the village, sweating heavily and pale faced he dismounted and bowed to d’Artagnan 

“What is it?” 

“Your Grace, You must return to the Castle at once, it is your Father”


	10. Chapter 10

D’Artagnan rode back to the castle at full gallop and for once did not bother to see to Zad’s grooming himself. Instead he left his horse in the care of the stable boys and went straight to the gardens where his Father was laying on the grass among the flowers. 

Dr Lemay was present, as was The Priest murmuring prayers. 

Both paused as d’Artagnan approached and Lemay walked over to him to take d’Artagnan’s arm and speak quietly into his ear.

“He doesn’t have very long I’m afraid, there’s nothing I can do now”

Feeling oddly numb d’Artagnan nodded his head and gave Lemay a weak smile whispering “Thank you”, he broke away from Lemay’s grasp and approached his Father, acknowledging the Priest as he went past to kneel at his Father’s side. 

 

“Papa?” he whispered taking Alexandre’s hand into his own and kissing it 

“Charles” Alexandre whispered on a shallow and laboured exhale, his eyes were glazed over and stared up at the sky, but he wasn’t seeing the sky, he was seeing something else, something no one be he could 

“I’m here Papa” d’Artagnan said his voice breaking at the end and he had to swallow down a sob as tears filled his eyes and spilled down his cheeks 

“My Charles,” Alexandre breathed “My Pup,” there was a smile on his face, small and weak but a definite smile, “Francoise would have been so proud, he has made me so proud”

d’Artagnan dipped his head and bit his lip. Alexandre didn’t know he was here, he couldn’t see him, couldn’t understand anything that was being said to him, his body was still here but his mind had already wandered, was going ahead of his spirit which was on the edge of leaving his body. 

“I can see her” Alexandre murmured, his words slurred and spoken in a breathy whisper “She is calling for me, she’s come for me at last” his gaze was now over d’Artagnan’s shoulder, he was staring at nothing, or perhaps something only he could see 

“My Francoise” 

d’Artagnan shakily inhaled and reached up to stroke his Father’s cheek, “She’s going to take you to heaven Papa, she’s leading you to a better place,” he sniffed and swiped at his nose and cheeks, “I’m going to miss you so much Papa, I love you and I promise I will do my best as Lord of Castlemore”

Alexandre’s breathing became harsher and his eyelids closed slowly, opening again but only half way 

“Charles” he rasped and coughed, his throat was constricted, his lungs were shutting down and blood was rising up into his wind pipe 

“I’m here Papa, I’m here!” d’Artagnan said cupping his Father’s cheek

For a second Alexandre’s eyes cleared and he smiled at his Omeon, meeting his eyes one last time in a silent farewell before they slid shut, he gave one last deep exhale and fell still with a trickle of blood running down his cheek from his lips.

 

d’Artagnan stared at his Father, his mouth open in a silent wail of grief. Tears were freely flowing down his cheeks and his body was shaking as he gazed down his Father. 

Silently Dr Lemay bowed his head while the Priest made the sign of the Cross and recited the prayers for the deceased. 

Across the garden the Musketeers arrived, stopping short when they saw the scene before them, guards and servants all standing back with their heads bowed, silent and sombre as their mourned the loss of their Lord.

 

“Go to him” Aramis murmured to Athos giving him a nudge with his elbow to Athos’s side 

“I…”

“He needs you, he needs someone to comfort him right now, be that someone” Aramis instructed “Give him hope and show him he is not as alone as he no doubt feels” 

Athos gave Aramis a bewildered look but let himself be pushed forward and found his legs heading towards d’Artagnan. 

He had no idea what he was doing, no idea what he was going to do, but when he knelt down beside and placed a hand on his shoulder the words seemed to come to him naturally. 

“Come with me now d’Artagnan,” he said in a gentle tone “Give me your hand and let me get you to your feet”

“I can’t” d’Artagnan whispered “I can’t leave him, I can’t let him go”

Athos felt a pang of empathy for what d’Artagnan was going through, the grief that was flooding the boy, confusing and paralysing him in this moment

Crouching down he put his arms about d’Artagnan’s shoulders feeling the boy flinch beneath his grasp, “Its alright” he whispered “Let me help you”

Slowly, and with his mouth trembling d’Artagnan turned his head to look at Athos with tears shining in his eyes “How?” he whispered 

Athos of course didn’t have an answer for that, instead he clasped d’Artagnan more firmly and lifted him to his feet, gently but firmly turning him away from his Father, 

“I don’t know how to do this” d’Artagnan said “I don’t know what I’m meant to do”

Keeping his arm wrapped about d’Artagnan’s shoulders Athos lead him towards the castle, “You let others help you, and you take things one day at a time” he advised guiding d’Artagnan into the castle. 

 

He took the grieving Omega to his bed chambers and sat him down on his bed, kneeling to take off his boots and undid the clasps on his doublet easing it off d’Artagnan’s shoulders. 

“Lay down” he instructed

d’Artagnan sluggishly slid up the bed and lay back against the pillows which smelt of himself and Athos. 

The Musketeer took the coverlet and lay it over d’Artagnan’s legs and waist, tucking him in so he couldn’t catch a chill, 

“Stay with me?” d’Artagnan asked looking up at Athos, his eyes large and filled with vulnerability

“I shouldn’t..” Athos began, but the plaintive heart broken look on d’Artagnan’s halted his words and silently he kicked off his own boots and settled himself down on the bed, freezing when d’Artagnan moved to lay his head on his chest and wrapped his arms about him 

“Please hold me” d’Artagnan whispered burying his nose into Athos’s doublet do he could breathe in the scent of Athos’s body 

With shaking hands Athos complied, loosely wrapped his arms about the Omega and holding him tenderly. After a few minutes he began to gently stroke d’Artagnan’s hair with his fingers and slowly felt d’Artagnan’s tense muscles relax against him, his breathing evening out, interspersed only by the occasional hitching of breath as d’Artagnan continued to shed tears.

After a while d’Artagnan spoke, his voice hoarse and higher pitch than normal, 

“He said he could see my Mother, see her spirit waiting for him, beckoning to him” 

“You’re Father?” Athos asked 

“Yeah, he said he could see her, said she was calling to him,” d’Artagnan shifted and looked up at Athos, his face streaked with tears, “Do you think she was really there?”

“I don’t know” Athos admitted taking a deep breath “Maybe, the more romantic side of me says it is possible or would like to think that it is possible, that a lost loved one will be there to guide you upon death and lead you into the afterlife”

d’Artagnan sniffed and lay his head back down against Athos’s chest, “I’ll have to go to Paris” he said sounding resigned to this fact  
“I have to present myself before the King as the new Lord of Castlemore”

“Not right away” Athos said knowing that it was true, he’d had to do the same himself when his Father had died and he’d claimed the title of Comte de la Fare, however there was allowed some time to grieve before one had to present oneself before the King 

“Sooner I do it the sooner it’s over” d’Artagnan murmured sniffing and wiping his nose on his sleeve “Papa never wanted me going to Paris, never wanted me to associate with the court”

“Why?” Athos asked 

The exhaustion of grief and the lack of sleep he’d had the night before was loosening d’Artagnan’s tongue and he couldn’t help but reply to Athos’ question 

“Because of who I am” he whispered looking up at Athos “Who I am descended from,” he bit his bottom lip, deciding in his grief worn vulnerability to take a chance and divulge his secret to Athos 

“My great Grandmother was Zenaide de Valois, daughter of King Francis I and Austria and Portugal, I am the last of the house of Valois, who reigned before the Bourbon, and have a legitimate claim to the Throne of France”.


	11. Chapter 11

Athos stared at d’Artagnan in utter shock. 

Of course, he knew the French Royal history, the line of succession from Francis I right down to Louis XIII, he had heard of Zenaide, the young Princess born shortly before Francis I death.   
She had been more of less forgotten by history though, Henry II had no time for a younger sibling, he’d been too busy securing his reign to consider her. 

He’d married her off quickly to a French noble, the Comte de Montesquiou rather than a foreign Prince, then she’d become nothing more than a footnote as Valois had passed over to the Bourbon Kings of Navarre, uniting the countries at last. 

She’d had a son though, Aurelian if Athos recalled, and he had gone on to wed Jeanne, the Comtesse D’Artagnan who had born him twins, Henri the current Comte de Montesquiou, and the late Francoise, who had wed Alexandre d’Batz de Castlemore, bearing him Charles, the Omega who sat before Athos, the new Lord of Castlemore, Comte D’Artagnan, and Heir to Montesquiou. 

When his Oncle Henri died he would own half of Gascony, control more land and possess more wealth than most Nobles in France could ever hope to have. 

He would have the man power to raise a private army, already had the respect of love of the Gascons, with his legitimate claim to the throne he could be a genuine threat to Louis XIII reign. 

Athos let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding and looked up at d’Artagnan who was staring at him with a frightened look on his face. 

He was frightened that Athos was going to betray this trust, he had taken Athos’s silence as a negative sign. 

Clearing his throat Athos reached out making d’Artagnan flinch, “Its okay” he said “I won’t tell anyone, your secret is safe with me”  
d’Artagnan rolled his lips and drew in a shaking breath nodding his head 

“No one can ever know” he whispered “I have no interest in the throne, I don’t want to be King, I’m going to have enough trouble ruling the lands I have without an entire Kingdom!”

Athos took his hands squeezing them gently, “No one will ever hear this from me I promise”

d’Artagnan looked unconvinced however, “What about your duty to the crown?” he challenged 

Athos shrugged “I do not see you as a threat to the crown, therefore I do not see a reason to report this to anyone,” he smiled and tugged on d’Artagnan’s arms to get him to lay back down, this time he spooned himself around d’Artagnan, holding him close and breathing in his scent from the back of d’Artagnan’s neck where a faded puckered scar from a severed bond bite remained. 

He longed to bend forward and kiss the scar, to draw his lips over it and let his tongue flick over the raised skin. 

It would be an act of dominance over the Omega, a marking of respect for the deceased Alpha who had come before him, and a marking of his scent upon the Omega before he placed his own bite on the bonding gland, but that would have to wait till d’Artagnan’s heat. 

Athos jolted himself and mentally shook his head, what the hell was doing laying here thinking about d’Artagnan’s heat? The boy had just lost his Father, the last thing he needed was an Alpha making a move on him for Christ sake! 

“Will you stay with me?” d’Artagnan asked making Athos startle 

“What?” he asked

“When I go to Paris, you’ll stay with me?” d’Artagnan explained turning to look at the Alpha “When I go before the King, I need someone there with me”

“I…if you would like me to be” Athos stammered 

d’Artagnan gave him a small smiled and settled back down and linked his hands with Athos’s holding them against his chest where Athos felt the beat of his heart against his knuckle. 

“You make me feel safe somehow” he murmured to Athos who silently gulped and rolled his lips inwards too keep his mouth from latching onto d’Artagnan’s exposed neck. 

 

******************************************************************************** 

 

Constance was in the nursery with Evony, trying to keep her distracted with a game of dolls, but her heart wasn’t in it, her mind was on d’Artagnan, on Alexandre, on what would happen now he was gone. 

“Where’s Oman?” Evony asked looking up from the doll she had been making dance 

“He’s having a lay down sweetheart” Constance said “He wasn’t feeling very well”, not a total lie and simple enough for Evony to understand 

“And Grandpa?” 

Constance sighed and set down the doll she’d been toying with and patted her lap for Evony to come and sit on it. 

With a smile Evony willing did so and settled on Constance who wrapped her arms about her kissing her cheek. 

“You know Grampa was very ill don’t you?” 

“Yes”

“Well he’s passed away” Constance said as gently as she could given the circumstances “He’s gone to Heaven now, like your Aphan did before you were born, they’re together now, watching over you”

Evony stared up at Constance with large doe like eyes, “He’s with Aphan?” she asked, her voice trembling “Will I ever see him again?” 

Constance bit the inside of her lips and forced a smile at the innocent question, “One day you will” she said “But it will be a long time from now”

Evony sniffed and worried at her lips, “Is Heaven pretty?” she asked “Will it be nice there, does Grampa like it?” 

“I’m sure it’s very pretty” Constance said “And Grampa will be very happy here” 

Tears began to spill down the little girls cheeks and Constance pulled her close stroking her hair gently as she cried   
“Can I go and see Oman?” she asked weeping into Constance’s gown “I want to see Oman”

Constance paused, she didn’t know if d’Artagnan was anywhere near ready to see anyone right now, even Evony, but then she was his Alphter, she needed him, and maybe in a way she could help him with his grief if they were together. 

“Okay” she said wrapping her arms more securely about Evony and rose from her seat, balancing Evony on her hips with her arms about her neck. 

 

She carried the small Pup through the Castle to d’Artagnan’s room and knocked on the door softly.   
She waited for a moment before opening the door and entering the chambers. 

Quietly she carried Evony through the parlour and into the bed chamber where she stopped dead at the sight of d’Artagnan and Athos curled up together on the bed soundly asleep. 

 

She knew that nothing but sleep had been happening, they were both fully dressed for one thing, but the fact they were curled up together like this was rather startling. 

For her at least, for Evony it meant nothing. 

The Pup squirmed until Constance let her down, and then she happily padded over to the bed and climbed up, crawled up to where d’Artagnan lay and snuggled down at his side. 

d’Artagnan mumbled something under his breath and lifted one arm which Evony quickly snuggled under and placed her head beneath his chin with a contented sigh. 

 

The sight of the Alpha, Omega, and Pup all curled up together struck a cord in Constance. It was the perfect sight of a family unit, a tender and heart warming image that reminded Constance that she wanted that for herself one day. A family, an Alpha. 

Athos, while not d’Artagnan’s alpha seemed to fit with him and Evony as if they were made for each other, he was older yes, but not too much so, and he seemed like a good man, an honourable man who would do right by d’Artagnan and Evony. 

Constance smiled wistfully, God knows they could do with some good fortune and a good Alpha in their lives, with Alexandre gone d’Artagnan as a young Omega would be a beacon for all Alphas and Betas looking for a fertile young mate, especially since he had a sizable fortune, and now there would be no one to protect him but his aged Oncle who was far away. 

Perhaps Athos had arrived here at an opportune moment, perhaps fate was stepping in for once and lending a hand. 

“One can but hope” Constance murmured quietly taking her leave. 

 

She went down to the dining room where she found Aramis and Porthos sitting before the fire. 

Aramis was cleaning his pistols, and Porthos was sharpening his sword. When they saw her they made to rise but she waved them off, going to the side board where glasses and wine had been placed and poured herself a cup, taking a deep drink and letting out a sigh as some of the tension in her body eased. 

“How is the little one?” Porthos asked 

“She’s with d’Artagnan” Constance said “She’s upset but not quite old enough to really understand I think”

“Poor kid” Porthos murmured and it wasn’t clear if he meant Evony or d’Artagnan, “How are you?” he asked Constance

She shrugged and made her way over to the fire and took a seat, “I’ll be alright” she said reaching round to rub the back of her neck, “It’s d’Artagnan I worry for, he’s all alone now”

“He has you” Aramis said coaxing a small smile out of Constance, “And we’ll stay, till after the funeral, if we’re welcome that is?” 

“I’m sure you will be” 

“I’d like to pay my respects” Aramis said “And d’Artagnan will need to go to Paris and present himself before the King. We could be his escorts”

“Yes, yes he will” Constance had forgotten that, she’s been thinking of the funeral, of how their lives would change here, she hadn’t been thinking of Paris, or going to court, what if someone found out about d’Artagnan’s heritage? 

She shivered and took another sip of wine shifting a little closer in her seat towards the fire 

“Well if Athos is amenable we’ll all travel together” Aramis said with a warm smile “And I think he will be”

The slightly impish tone in his voice made Constance narrow her eyes at him, “Do you have anything to do with the fact he is currently asleep in d’Artagnan’s bed?” she asked 

Aramis tried to look innocent and it might have worked on someone who wasn’t use to Pups making big eyes to try and convince someone they were innocent angels, but it sure as hell didn’t work on Constance.

“They’ve got a connection” he said after a beat, “I thought he could comfort d’Artagnan better than any of us”

“If he’s asleep in d’Artagnan’s bed then I’d say his comforting skills need improving!” Porthos snorted 

“They’re asleep together!” Constance blurted and flushed when both Musketeers leered at her, “Get your minds out of the gutter!” she scolded “They are just sleeping, nothing else!”

“Yet!” Aramis said setting down his pristine pistol and smiling a self-satisfied smile “Those two are going to bond, I can feel it!”.


	12. Chapter 12

Waking next to d’Artagnan with a young Pup gazing up at him from the Omega’s other side was disconcerting to say the least. 

Athos had very little experience with Pups and children, when Thomas had been a child he had been a Pup himself and they hadn’t mixed with the village children and Pups as it was not fitting for two high born offspring to do so. 

Aramis and Porthos on the other hand had plenty of experience. 

The Court of Miracles was filled with the bastards of whores, Porthos had been surrounded by Pups and children there, helped care for the poor little buggers as best he could as he tried to eek out a living for himself as a thief, until he’d left and joined the army. 

Aramis had come from a large family, he had plenty of older and younger siblings, he’d helped care for the younger siblings and his older siblings own offspring before he had left to join the seminary, not that he’d stuck at it for very long, Aramis was many things, poetic, a true romantic, a chivalrous knight of a bygone era, but a monk or priest he most certainly was not. 

He spoke occasionally of someone special in his past, someone who had it seemed broken his heart, but he never divulged the full information, but when in his cups he had spoken of this woman, Isabelle. 

Clearly, she was the reason why he had never long settled in a relationship. 

Once bitten twice shy as the saying went. 

Athos could appreciate that, by God could he!. 

Since Anne the last thing he had wanted was another romantic relationship, having been hurt so much he could not bear the thought of opening his heart again. 

Until now it seemed. 

A dark eyed boy barely into his twenties had made his heart quicken once again. 

A boy who had been widowed not a year into his marriage and had a young Pup dependant upon him.   
A pup who was gazing intently at him right now!

 

Athos cleared his throat, “Good Morning” he stuttered out nervously, it was ridiculous, a grown Alpha who served the King, had been in the presence of the King was feeling nervous before a Pup!

Evony continued to stare at Athos curiously, “Why are you sleeping with my Oman?” she asked plainly, Athos nearly choked on his tongue! He stumbled to find an answer that was both suitable for a Pups ears and simple enough for her to understand at such a young age without actually lying to her. 

“We grew tired talking and fell asleep together” was the best he could come up with 

Evony absorbed that and pursed her lips, her small brow furrowing with thoughtfulness 

“You’re an Alpha aren’t you?” she asked 

“I am” Athos said wondering where this was going

“Madame Constance said my Aphan was an Alpha” Evony said “She said that to make Pups or babies there needs to be an Alpha or a male Beta, and an Omega or a female Beta!”

Athos gulped and gaped at Evony who went on regardless 

“She said that they go to bed together to make Pups and Babies! Were you making Pups and Babies with my Oman? If you were I want a little sibling to play with, an Alphta, Ometa, or Sister!”

Athos made a gargling noise in his throat with his eyes bulging so much they looked like they were going to pop out of their sockets!

“Madame Constance says that the Pups and Babies grow in an Oman or Mammon’s tummy, but she didn’t say how they got there, how do they get there?” 

“I…”, to Athos’s great relief d’Artagnan stirred at that moment and awoke saving him from having to answer that question 

“Oman!” Evony loudly cried and hugged him tightly 

“Evie, good morning” d’Artagnan said planting a kiss on her head “When did you come here?” 

“Last night” she murmured “Constance brought me here”

“Did she now” d’Artagnan said sighing deeply, beside him Athos shifted and rose from the bed 

“I should go” he said uncomfortably 

“Oh, Athos I’m sorry I didn’t mean to ignore you” d’Artagnan said rubbing his face sleepily, “Give me a moment and we’ll go to breakfast together” he tickled Evony’s sides making her giggle and squirm “I can think of someone who needs her breakfast”

Still reeling somewhat from Evony’s questions, Athos just nodded his head mutely and watched as d’Artagnan got himself and his Alphter up, taking her through to the bathroom to wash up before they went down to break their fast. 

While they did so he pulled on his boots and his doublet trying to clear the fog from his head.

What the hell was he doing sleeping with an unbonded Omega? An Omega he was painfully attracted to, this was asking for trouble in the worst possible way, the closer the two of them became the harder their separation would be, and they would have to separate in the end, there was no choice in that. 

He knew this, he wasn’t fooling himself into thinking that he could have a relationship with d’Artagnan, and yet here he was offering to be escort for him to Paris for God sake!

“I have to stop thinking with my knot and heart and think with my damn head!” he muttered to himself in chastisement, “This idiocy has to stop, no more bed sharing, intimate conversations, nothing!”

Athos was resolute on this right up until d’Artagnan came out of the bathroom with his hair damp from washing and his shirt unlaced revealing his chest, at that moment his mouth went dry and his cock began to harden in his breeches!

He was fucked, completely and totally fucked. 

 

*********************************************************************************

Alexandre’s funeral was held three days after his death.

The whole of Castlemore attended the service, all bowing their heads, removing their hats, and saying prayers for their lost lord. 

d’Artagnan had Constance and Evony at his sides, hid his face behind a black veil so he may cry without shaming himself in public. 

The whole of the Late Seigneur’s household wept for his loss and many of the villagers too shed tears for him. 

Alexandre had truly been a very well-loved man and would be very greatly missed, not only by his family but by all who knew him and lived on his lands.

As a mark of respect the Musketeers provided an honour guard for the funeral procession, following behind the family who walked behind Alexandre’s coffin that was carried by six of his guards and lead by the Captain. 

In full uniform they stood beside the grave as the priest gave the final prayers for Alexandre’s immortal soul and held out the dirt for the family to take a handful and drop down onto the coffin 

“Goodbye Papa” d’Artagnan whispered as he performed this final act for his Father “I hope you are at peace” He lifted Evony so she could do the same and left her bury her tearful face into his shoulder as she cried against him

“Poor kid” Porthos murmured from Athos’s right, “He’s hardly more than a pup himself”

“I know” Athos whispered glancing to Aramis who was whispering prayers over his rosary “He has the weight of an entire world on his shoulders” and I wish I could ease that burden. 

“Maybe when we get him to Paris we should show him a good time!”

Athos shot Porthos a horrified look, he knew all to well what “A good time” meant to Porthos and Aramis and it was not remotely fit for a high born Omega!

“I meant get him to let his hair down, show him some of the more decent Inns not spend a bloody day in Madame Angels!” Porthos snorted “Nice to know what you’re thinking with!” he teased

Athos glowered at him and muttered something that sounded like “Drop dead of the pox!”, however his cheeks were flushed an embarrassing pink and his treacherous imagination tormented him with thoughts of taking d’Artagnan to some of the less reputable establishments and making merry with him!

 

As was his duty d’Artagnan remained at the grave side as it was filled, the Captain of course remained with him while the rest of the guards returned to the Castle. 

Constance took Evony back along with Lemay who had of course come to pay his respects and offer his support to d’Artagnan. 

He would also be accompanying the Comte to Paris, he had been invited to lecture at the Sorbonne through the Summer and was taking them up on the offer, so it made sense that he travel with d’Artagnan. 

Certainly, it was safer for an Omega to travel in a party than to try and travel alone, and he had grown close to d’Artagnan and Constance during his time with them and wanted to continue their friendship. 

The Musketeers remained also, or rather Athos refused to leave until d’Artagnan was to depart and to make things less conspicuous Aramis and Porthos remained with him. 

Like a statue d’Artagnan stood watching as the grave was filled with earth burying his Father beneath, in his shaking hands he clasped his rosary beads but could not summon a prayer. Silently he cried, his tears rolling down his hidden cheeks to spot on his doublet.

In his mind he could picture his home as it had always been, with his Father there ready to greet him with a broad smile and deep laugh, enveloping him into his arms and holding him tight, ready to help him and fight all his battles for him just as he always had. 

d’Artagnan had never had to worry as Alexandre had always been there to help and guide him, even when he lost Stephen he had not felt as alone and lost as he did right now. 

He knew he had to be strong, had to be the Lord that his people needed, had to live up to his Father’s expectations, secure his legacy and ensure that his lands prospered for Evony to succeed him, but right now he felt very far from strong, he felt like a lost and frightened Pup that was unprepared to face the challenges that lay ahead. 

The first being his presentation at court. 

 

*********************************************************************************

 

They could not go straight to Paris.

d’Artagnan’s sadly neglected wardrobe was not remotely fit for him to present himself at court in, and he would be in mourning for six months, he needed several items of black clothes to wear which had to be made for him before he could travel. 

Three pairs of black breeches in leather, satin, and damask. 

Three doublets in leather, velvet, and satin. 

Two jerkins, one of suede and the other of silk. 

Black stockings

Black boots, and black shoes.

 

Constance too needed black gowns, while not family she was in service to the family and would be expected to wear black in respect for the loss of Alexandre, as would Evony who too needed new gowns, she was outgrowing her current ones so she needed new clothes anyway, but the gowns for court would be much more elaborate than her usual attire even though they would be in black with just a touch of colour in the embroidery. 

“Black is not my colour” Constance sighed as she regarded herself in a mirror, she was wearing a black gown with a pink floral pattern and a black chemise beneath, she had three new gowns on order, all in black, one of silk, one of damask, and one of satin, all would be sombre but would be fine and elegant enough for court. 

“I don’t know” Porthos said coming up behind her making her jump slightly “I think the darkness makes your skin look more radiant and your hair all the brighter!”

Constance let out a surprised and flattered laugh at this, “I thought I would have to wait to get to court to begin flirtation!” she said not disapproving at all 

“Well, I thought I’d help give you a head start” Porthos replied with a shrug “An I’m willing to bet good money that my skills at flirtation are better than any you’ll find in court”

“Really?” Constance asked amused and intrigued “You know the court well I presume?”

“Well enough, as a Musketeer I stand guard there fairly regularly” Porthos said, and dear God wasn’t that one of the most boring jobs of all, standing around for hours while courtiers ate, drank, danced, and babbled on about nothing important! It was enough to drive a man mad!

“Then you can tell me what to expect” Constance said linking arms with the Musketeer “I’ve never been to court and d’Artagnan was a Pup the last time he was there so I have no idea what to expect”

Smiling, Porthos lay a large hand over Constance’s arm “My pleasure” he said and meant it. 

 

Aramis found Lemay in the guest room he used when he had stayed over night tending Alexandre, packing up his belongings there ready for when they travelled. 

“You are coming with us to Paris I hear” the Musketeer commented from the door way, not entering unless invited 

“That’s right” Lemay said closing his trunk “I am to lecture at the Sorbonne for a season, His Grace kindly invited me to journey with him to Paris”

Aramis hummed and nodded his head, “Maybe you will let me show you around the city?” he offered, he just couldn’t get a read on Lemay, the Omega was an enigma to him, infuriating and all the more intriguing because of it!

“Maybe” Lemay said non-committedly “I imagine I will be pretty busy though, and as a Musketeer you must have many duties to attend”

Aramis shrugged continuing to smile “I’m sure I can find the time if you are interested” tipping his head in a mock bow he took his leave of the Doctor who felt his cheeks flame and his heart flutter, Lemay was not use to such attentions, especially not from an Alpha as handsome as Aramis, while he promised himself he would not let himself fall prey to sweet talk and flattery he could not help but feel a surge of warmth flowing through himself whenever he encountered Aramis and it was making things very hard for him to keep level headed. 

 

He was not the only one who was struggling with such things.

Athos’s plan to keep a distance from d’Artagnan was not working. 

When the Omega was not occupied with estate affairs or spending time with his Alphter he was seeking out Athos to go riding or fencing, and Athos had not the heart to refuse him which resulted in his being with d’Artagnan for several hours a day very often alone. 

It was worse when they fenced, the teacher in Athos would force him to correct d’Artagnan’s positions to enable him a better swing or thrust with the blade, and that involved physical contact with the Omega, and every time they touched the longing for more grew greater still in Athos’ heart. 

By the time they were ready to leave for Paris Athos’ every dream at night was filled with erotic images of himself and d’Artagnan, he was suffering an almost permanent state of semi arousal, and his aggression had increased as his Alpha desires were continually denied and tormented by the proximity he was to the Omega. 

It was rapidly reaching a make or break point, either he and d’Artagnan would have to go their separate ways once they reached Paris, or they would have to give into this desire because Athos would not be able to continue like this indefinitely. Especially not if he stayed in the young Omega’s presence when his inevitable heat came.


	13. Chapter 13

Sasson was the only prisoner left alive by the time they were ready to travel to Paris. His comrades had already died of their injuries in the interim, their bodies buried in paupers graves with only a few prayers said over them by the priest.   
Sasson was bitter about this, had spouted abuse about how his friends had received nothing in the way of a decent Christian burial, where the late Alexandre had a whole village turning out for him and praying for his soul!.

He spat out further insults against d’Artagnan and his Alphter, growing increasingly more lewd and malicious until the guards tired of his foul mouth and kept him gagged at all times save when he was eating. 

 

“He’ll be thrown straight in the Chalet when we arrive in Paris” Aramis said eyeing Sasson who was chained by both the wrists and ankles and tied onto his horse which was tethered to Porthos’s Stallion Filip. 

“The sooner the better!” Porthos grunted casting a dark gaze on the criminal, “Just looking at him upsets my stomach”

“I did wonder what the smell was, I though Belle had relieved herself!” Aramis teased patting his mare’s flank 

Porthos snorted, “If there’s any shit around here isn’t come from you, God knows you talk enough!”

“Oh what a charming conversation to be having!” d’Artagnan said making both Musketeers jump and flush a little at his unnoticed arrival. Beside the young Comte, Athos glowered at his fellows, Constance, who had Evony on her hip just looked amused. 

“We ah, didn’t see you there, your Grace” Aramis said sheepishly 

“Obviously!” d’Artagnan said still looking amused, “I trust we are all ready to depart?”

“Completely, your Grace” Aramis assured him, glancing over d’Artagnan’s shoulder to see Lemay coming after them carrying a couple of a very heavy looking cases, “If you’ll excuse me a moment”

Aramis jogged over to the Doctor and greeted him with a broad smile, “Allow me to assist” he said taking one of the cases and valiantly kept from wincing at the weight of it

“And they say chivalry is dead” Lemay chuckled as Aramis lead the way up to the carriage and handed over the case to be stored on the roof, he also handed over the second case and then offered his hand to Lemay to help him into the carriage.

“Thank you Monsieur” Lemay said holding onto Aramis’s hand lightly and stepped into the carriage 

“Oh Aramis please”

“Monsieur Aramis then!”

Aramis made a wounded noise clasped his heart as if he had been struck! Then sighed sorrowfully 

“Gascony is usually such a warm place, yet now I feel chilled, as if a sudden icy draft has blown over me and driven away my heat!”

“Hmm and left some part of you wilted like a flower that rises from it’s winter bed too soon!” Lemay replied with a smug smirk 

Porthos snorted gleefully with laughter at this, as he walked Constance to the carriage and helped her inside along with Evony 

“Bugger off!” Aramis hissed at him with his cheeks flushed

“I think you’re losing your touch!” Porthos snickered after him as Aramis stalked to Belle, he made a rude gesture at Porthos who returned it in kind, then checked the door to the carriage was secure before going to mount Filip.

 

d’Artagnan had chosen to ride Zad instead of sitting in the carriage, at least until they reached Meung, then he would have to change from his casual leather breeches and simple leather jerkin into courtly attire which would not be so well suited for riding. 

“Will you be able to keep pace?” Athos asked from where he was mounted on Roger’s back 

d’Artagnan smirked at him as he swung himself up into the saddle, “You’ll have to keep up with me!”

Athos rose an eyebrow at the teasing challenge, the Alpha within him reared up in readiness to prove himself to the Omega. Tests of strength were common among courting Alpha’s and Omega’s, the Omega wanting to know that the Alpha was capable of defending them, of protecting them and any offspring they may sire. Alpha’s also liked to prove their strength, peacocking as it were, it was similar to the bite they would put on their mate’s neck, a show of strength, of possession to any competitors for their Omega’s hand.

With Anne, Athos had never had to show such strength, had barely courted her at all in fact, and she had been a Beta female, not an Omega. 

The thought of courting d’Artagnan was as thrilling as it was terrifying to Athos, especially since they had been dancing around each other and flirting since the day they had met. 

As he kicked Roger into a steady trot Athos tried to keep his gaze off d’Artagnan who was riding just a little ahead of him and made the extreme effort to not breathe in the scent that was carried on the wind after him. 

Thank God he was not in season or close to it, for if he had been Athos was certain that he’d be lost.

 

***

 

Paris

Palais de Cardinal   
“I hear your wretched Musketeers are returning at last” Richelieu said to Treville as they shared breakfast in the smaller dining room that Richelieu used when not entertaining. Their cats, all fourteen of them padded about their feet, some mewling for table scraps, while other trilled for attention from their masters 

“Where did you hear that?” Treville asked with a small smile, he leaned back in his hair backed chair and sipped his hot chocolate in contentment, as the Beta Captain of the Musketeers he was known as a frugal man, but as Richelieu’s lover he could enjoy some indulgences like fine Hot chocolate, fresh brioche, choice cuts of meat, and exotic fruits. 

Of course, so far as the world was concerned he and Richelieu were not lovers, were not even friends. Their love was considered blasphemous in the eyes of the church, Alpha's wed either Beta women or Omegas to sire Pups, not Alphas or Beta men with whom they could not breed. Beta men also did not wed Alphas or Beta men, or Omegas other Omegas or Beta women. Marriage was for the begetting of offspring and such matches could not bring about offspring so they were deemed unnatural by the eyes of the Church.

Richelieu met Treville's eyes across the table and smiled himself, "I have my sources, My Dear" he replied

Treville chuckled knowing that was an understatement to say the least. 

It was funny really, he and Richelieu had been lovers for twenty years since their uniting over Marie de Medici attempted coup against her Son Louis XIII. 

Treville had opposed the Queen Mother and been thrown in prison for his troubles, beaten, starved, tortured, he had expected to die there, every time the door to his cell had been opened he had expected to be dragged out and taken to the scaffold and beheaded without so much as the courtesy of a trial. 

But to his shock, one of the times the cell door had opened it had not been one of Marie de Medici's guards coming to give him another beating, but a Red Guard. The young Corporal Boisrenard, a favourite of Richelieu and hand selected by his Captain Jussac. 

The guard had brought Treville a decent meal, clean clothes, bandages for his wounds, and most importantly a substantial bribe for the guards to stop beating Treville and treat him fairly. 

While his release from prison had been a few more weeks away Treville had enjoyed better lodging after that, and he'd been curious as to why The Cardinal would bother with seeing to the care of a young Gascon of an all but bankrupt estate. 

When he had been released Treville had sort out the Cardinal to thank him personally, normally he steered clear of the Alpha, disagreeing with his methods and practices too much to want to be around him. However, when not in Court and carrying out his duties both Ecclesiastic and Political Richelieu was a completely different person. 

He had a shrewd analytical mind that fascinated Treville, and a sense of humor much like his own, so that Treville rapidly found himself growing to like the Alpha Armand. 

He hadn't realized at the time that he was, in fact, falling in love with Armand, and had certainly never thought even for a moment that Armand might be falling for him, yet that was precisely what was happening, and one night, after a little too much wine they had fallen into bed together. The following morning had been tense to say the least, with Treville all but falling out of bed in shock at finding himself naked beside Armand with dried seed on his belly. 

Armand however, had been relaxed and content and had managed to put the young Jean at ease. 

What had followed had been a rather torrid relationship, at least for the early years when they had both been too unsure to say that they felt more than lust for each other. 

It was not until the Siege of La Rochelle where Treville had recklessly led a charge and nearly got himself killed that both he and Armand had finally revealed the true depths of their feelings for one another. 

Since then they had been faithful to each other and married in all but name. 

As Captain of the Musketeers with little wealth, Treville could get away with not having mistresses or casual Omegas without anyone questioning it. Richelieu however, had no such luxury, he might be a Man of the cloth, but he was not a Monk, he was a Cardinal, a Prince of the Church, Mistresses and Casual Omegas were expected for such men and Richelieu could not afford to be without one for overlong. 

This difficulty was easily solved by his immense wealth. The hiring of Courtesans was a simple enough matter, Richelieu would clothe them, dine them, spend an appropriate amount of time with them to make it appear that he was laying with them, while in fact he never laid a single hand on them. The money he paid ensured their silence and they enjoyed a life of leisure for some time. 

The last of these had been a young courtesan by the name of Adele whom Richelieu had actually grown fond of. Until it was discovered that she was not only in his pay but also in Rochefort's too. 

 

The Comte de Rochefort, recently returned from capture in Spain had all but publically declared himself Richelieu's enemy since the Cardinal had refused to pay the ransom demand for his release from Spain. 

While he had been Master of The Bastille, and given a seat on the Privy council, it was clear that Rochefort wanted more, he wanted to be First Minister and would use any and all means to remove Richelieu from that post, his seduction and bribery of Adele had been one such attempt, one that had failed since Richelieu had discovered it and had Adele dealt with. 

 

Were Rochefort anyone else then Richelieu might well have already had him removed in a similar manner, but, the twisted toad was a favourite of Queen Anne and was thus protected from Richelieu's meddling, unfortunate but true. 

With Rochefort looking for any and all means to destroy Richelieu and make himself First Man at court, Treville had felt the loss of his elite Musketeers all the more keenly than normal. He was very thankful that they were returning, at last, though not alone it seemed 

"I wonder what the court will make of young Charles," he said to Richelieu, "I haven't seen him since he was but a Pup, and I hear he has one of his own now!"

Richelieu snorted, "If you are referring to the Comte D'Artagnan, then he is still a Pup, barely twenty-one years old!" 

"And that makes him a Pup?" Treville chuckled, "Careful Armand, you are showing your age!"

Richelieu rose an eyebrow, "I believe I showed more than that last night!", he glanced up as the door to the room opened and Milady de Winter, his best operative came in, garbed dramatically in a black leather gown that seemed almost molded to her skin, and a lawn cloth chemise that sat just off the shoulder leaving a good deal of creamy flesh on view.   
As always she wore a choker about her throat that she fingered with a gloved hand when she stopped walking. 

"The Musketeers have reached Meung," She reported, "Cahussac has sent scouts and the party is on the outskirts of the village, where they will likely remain for the night and ride to court on the morrow"

"To present the young Comte at last," Richelieu said and shared a smile with Treville before turning back to Milady, "Make sure Bernajoux and Boisrenard take charge of the remaining prisoner, I want him thrown in the chalet and executed as soon as possible"

Milady inclined her head, "It will be my pleasure" she said, elegantly she glided away from the two men, her skirts scraping the floor as she went

"Back to work then I suppose" Treville said, draining his hot chocolate and rising from the table, Richelieu reached over and caught his hand, pressing a kiss to calloused fingers 

"Will I see you later?" 

"I will make every effort to return to your bed my love" Treville promised sharing a lingering kiss with the Cardinal before he followed in Milady's wake.


	14. Chapter 14

Meung 

 

“You’d think I’d never seen an Alpha before, much less been bonded to and had a pup by one!” d’Artagnan muttered under his breath as he tipped warm water over Evony’s head. 

She was sat in a metal tub that was lined with sheets before a roaring fire before bathed ready to travel to The Louvre the following day.

“What?” Constance asked 

“Nothing,” d’Artagnan replied with a sigh, he was of course speaking of Athos, of his growing attraction to Athos which had only grown strong since their departure from Castlemore. 

They had not always been able to find lodging on the road and had to sleep rough through out the journey. Tents were erected for d’Artagnan, Constance, and Lemay to use with small cots to sleep on rather than the simple bed rolls that the Musketeers and guards used about the open fire. 

Being in such close proximity to Athos constantly had only increased the desire for him. With a lack of opportunity to wash properly everyone’s scents naturally increased. This was pure torture for Athos and d’Artagnan who were already being drawn to each other’s scent, the primal Alpha and Omega urges inside them filling their blood with hormones and trying to get them to give in to nature rather than conform to society’s protocols. 

d’Artagnan’s heat was also fast approaching. He would have ten days in Paris before it hit, time enough to greet the King and be welcomed to court, then he would have to take to his chambers for the length of his heat, locked away from any opportunistic Alphas and Betas who might like to take advantage of the situation. 

 

“What’s the King like Oman?” Evony asked splashing her hands into the water to make bubbles 

“I’m not really sure,” d’Artagnan replied honestly, “I have never met him, but I have seen his portrait, as have you, it’s hanging in our dining hall at home”

Evony frowned and pursed her lips, “Does he look like that though?” 

“Dark? Yes I should think so,” d’Artagnan said gathering up a towel and getting Evony out of the bath and wrapping her up in it to dry her off. Technically speaking it should be Constance doing this, but d’Artagnan wanted to be part of Evony’s day to day life and part of that was washing and dressing her and putting her to bed. 

“Will be nice to us?” Evony asked letting out a yawn as she was vigorously rubbed with the towel, she then obediently held up her arms to have her night gown slipped over her head and the laces done up by Constance while d’Artagnan dried her hair and carefully ran a comb through it before braiding it into two side plaits which he secured with ribbons

“I’m sure he’ll be very nice,” he said to her planting a kiss on her head, “And you should get some sleep so you’re full of energy to go to Paris tomorrow”

“But I’m not sleepy!” Evony whined pouting adorably 

“Yes you are sweet pea,” d’Artagnan said lifting her up into his arms and carrying her to bed, carefully he lay her down on the pillows and pulled the sheets up, tucking her in. 

“Is the Louvre big?” she asked as she settled down and yawned again despite her denial of being fatigued, 

“It’s very big darling, much bigger than Castlemore.” D’Artagnan said stroking back her hair, “And you’ll see it tomorrow, and you’ll meet the King, and the Queen.”

“Is she pretty as you and Constance?” 

d’Artagnan shot a grin at Constance who chuckled in amusement at the compliment from the young Pup

“I’m sure she is little one.” He said kissing her cheek, “Now go to sleep, and when you wake up we’ll be that much closer to going to the Louvre!” 

Evony made a happy sound as she burrowed down in the covers and closed her eyes, sleep came quickly to her and she was soon away with the fairies leaving Constance and d’Artagnan to see to their own washing up and getting ready for bed. 

“You can take the bath first,” d’Artagnan said slipping a jerkin over his shirt, “I’m going for a walk”

“Alone!” Constance scandalized 

“Yes alone,” d’Artagnan said with a chuckle, “And I’ll be fine, and I promise not to stray to far!”, emphasising the point on his safety and ability to take care of himself he picked up his sword and fastened it about his waist 

“Just be careful,” Constance urged unlacing her corset and letting out a relieved sigh and rubbed her ribs which were aching from the constriction 

“I cross my heart!” d’Artagnan called over his shoulder as he headed out the door. 

*****

 

Normally when in a drinking hole Athos would be found propping up the bar until closing time. 

Porthos would be engaged in a card game or some other game of chance that he excelled at, (Excelled in cheating at!) and Aramis would be charming every Beta woman and Omega he could find. 

Tonight however there was some differences. Porthos was playing cards, but was not cheating, the man he was playing was too elderly and not at all wealthy for Porthos to feel comfortable in fleecing him at a card game. 

Aramis was sat in a corner with Lemay sharing a bottle of wine and discussing treating battle injuries and the use of herbal remedies for infection and fever.   
While he was clearly interested in Lemay, had made that very obvious, he was not openly flirting or over doing the charm as he was sometimes prone to when he was smitten, he was instead talking with interest about something both he and Lemay shared a passion for. 

Athos was no where to be found. Not in the bar anyway. He was outside in the stables grooming Roger who had a habit of being uppity with people he didn’t know. 

Alcohol, which was normally his vice of choice when it came to smothering his feelings had lost its flavour for him at present. He knew why. It was the Alpha in him that was making him want to stay healthy, be at his most virial and potent, not be dulled by alcohol or other substances, so when the time came he would be fit to sire strong and healthy offspring.

“Sometimes being an Alpha is more trouble than its worth!” he muttered to Roger who huffed and butted him with his head, “Not that you’d know would you boy?” 

“I would say that Omega’s have it worse!” 

Athos jumped at the voice which came from behind him and turned to see d’Artagnan standing there, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you jump”

“Not at all you’re Grace” Athos said formally, “Can I help you with something?” 

“You can call me d’Artagnan or Charles instead of Your Grace,” d’Artagnan replied, “I’ll be getting enough of that as it is when we get to the Louvre!”

Athos chuckled and nodded his head, “d’Artagnan then,”

“Much better,” the Omega said and walking closer to Athos and reaching out to pet Roger who nuzzled his hand eagerly, from the stable opposite Zad huffed and stamped his feet in jealousy until d’Artagnan went and gave him a fuss too. 

“Is everything alright?” Athos asked, “Your rooms are comfortable?” 

“They are,” d’Artagnan said giving Athos a smile, he turned back around and wrapped his arms about his waist, “I just.., needed some air, some space to think,” he said, “To try and get my thoughts in order before I reach Paris and face The King,”

Athos frowned but said nothing as he gazed at d’Artagnan, letting him go on 

“I know the odds are that he will not make the connection between our families, will not know I am a potential heir for the throne of France. We have never met, my ancestors have kept themselves out of the public eye and away from political intrigue, that anonymity has kept them safe from the risk of being seen as a threat. I intend to do the same if I can, in fact I must, not only for my sake, but for Evony’s too”

Of course, Athos realised, this was not just about d’Artagnan but his Alphter, she was heiress, would inherit after him. If Louis saw d’Artagnan as a threat then he would automatically view Evony as the same, and she would not be the first royal pup to be put to death to secure a Kingdom, as the poor boys in the Tower could attest to. 

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he whispered, his voice husky and filled with devotion that surprised them both, as did his crossing the stable to stroke d’Artagnan’s cheek with his knuckles 

“I know you to be an honest person, I know you have no ambition towards the throne, and that you would do nothing to unseat the King,” he said cupping d’Artagnan’s cheek now, the soft skin against his calloused palm both soothing and warming him as d’Artagnan leaned into the touch, “I will protect you, and stand by you come what may,” 

D’Artagnan inhaled sharply, he opened his mouth but no words came, his deep and suddenly tearful eyes searched Athos’s storm grey/blue gaze, seeking reassurance and guidance, and above all, acceptance. Before either of them really knew what was happening they were moving forward, their hands reaching out and grasping each other as their lips met in heated and hungry passion. 

As soon as they began they couldn’t stop, the desperately surging hormones fuelling the need for them to give in to this and each other. 

Athos lifted d’Artagnan up, pushing him against the wooden post at the side of Zad’s stall positioning himself between his legs and rubbing their sexes against each other. 

d’Artagnan gasped and groaned, wrapping his legs tightly about Athos’s waist, clinging to him tightly,   
“Fuck me!” he panted as their mouths parted, “Fuck me Athos!”, he didn’t care that this could ruin his reputation, he didn’t care that this close to his heat there was a risk of him falling pregnant, all he cared about was having Athos inside him, grinding him against the stable and quelling the fire raging inside him. 

Athos couldn’t think of the potential consequences of this either, all he could think of was the taste and scent of the Omega, his Omega in his arms at last!, lowering one hand he reached down to undo the buttons of his breeches and free his cock, then began to work on d’Artagnan’s breeches. 

 

Outside the stable, in the court yard, a dozen men dressed in Musketeer uniforms arrived on horse back and dismounted, covering their faces with scarves and masks. 

“Check the stables,” the leader said to a couple of his men, taking his pistol from it’s holster and cocking it, “The rest of you follow me.”


	15. Chapter 15

D’Artagnan was panting and bucking his hips in anticipation of the knot that was starting to swell in Athos’s hand, his own hands were in Athos’s hair, pulling just a little too hard, adding a little pain to spice the pleasure. 

Athos was just a second away from thrusting inside d’Artagnan’s slick inviting body when there came the unmistakable clicking of a pistol being cocked. 

A dirty laugh followed the sound of the pistol, and both Athos and d’Artagnan turned their heads to see two men, garbed in Musketeer uniforms standing before them with a pistol trained on them.

“Oh don’t let us stop you please!” one of them said with a leer, “I haven’t seen anything so pleasing to the eye in days!”

His friend snorted in amusement and looked d’Artagnan over with a lascivious leer that set Athos’s hackles rising. 

“How much does he cost!” he asked as if d’Artagnan were nothing but a common whore, he ran his eyes over d’Artagnan again, “Give me a turn and I’ll let you live!” 

“Hey me and all!” his friend said, “I’m riding that sweet arse and getting those pretty lips round my cock!”

“I doubt it’d fill my mouth, shit for brains!” d’Artagnan snarled at him earning himself a poke in the ribs from Athos, an warning to get him to stay silent and let the Alpha handle things. 

Like fuck! 

“You are not Musketeers,” Athos growled at the men, slowly and carefully lowered d’Artagnan to the ground and tucking his cock back inside his breeches, he left them undone but at least he wasn’t quite so…exposed! 

“Yeah?” the man sneered, “And how the fuck would you know?” 

Athos turned and revealed the pauldron on his right shoulder startling both the men who hadn’t recognized Athos’s face in the gloom of the stables but could make out the leather pauldron of the Kings own regiment. 

“Oh fuck!” one of them cursed, then his friend fired the pistol. 

 

Athos threw himself over d’Artagnan, sending the two of them crashing into Zad’s stable, startling the horse who jumped and let out an angry sounding snort.   
“Stay down!” Athos hissed at him reaching for his own sword, thankful he hadn’t removed his sword belt, 

“Fuck that I can fight!” d’Artagnan shot back with a scowl that Athos returned in kind, clearly wanting to protect the Omega as any Alpha would, but d’Artagnan wasn’t the kind of Omega who bowed down to Alphas, he was too self-assured and confident for that. 

Athos opened his mouth to speak, to order d’Artagnan to stay down and out of danger, but d’Artagnan moved faster than he could speak. Drawing his sword, d’Artagnan jumped to his feet, braced his hands on the wooden stall, lifted himself over it, swinging his legs round and kicking one of the fake Musketeers in the chest driving him backwards and making him stumble and fall onto his back side. 

The one with the pistol, who thankfully had not reloaded swung out with the but of the gun, trying to pistol whip d’Artagnan, but the Omega ducked under the blow and delivered a slash across the man’s belly with his sword making him bellow in pain as he fell back. Meanwhile his friend had righted himself and draw his own sword, he lunged for d’Artagnan who easily countered the move and slashed the man over the face with his sword slicing him from ear to mouth in a deep slash. Dancing around he parried with the man, keeping on the balls of his feet and using his agility and speed to counter the Beta’s superior strength, every time the man tried to thrust or strike d’Artagnan danced nimbly out of the way, then with a speed of a snake in the grass he would twist and deliver another blow to the man, leaving his body littered in shallow and deep cuts that were oozing blood over the stables. 

“Stay still you little whore!” he snarled sweating heavily and tiring 

“I am no whore!” d’Artagnan snapped, he twisted round, ducking beneath a swing of the mans sword and ran him through with his sword, twisting it in the wound to ensure maximum damage. 

 

Athos meanwhile was dealing with the man with the pistol. Cursing head strong Omega’s who didn’t think of their safety, he rose to his feet and tackled the man, preventing him from reloading his gun and knocking it from his hands. 

The man fumbled with his sword, trying to draw it from his belt but Athos delivered a thrust to his upper arm preventing him from doing so. Desperately the man tried to dodge Athos’s attack, to flee from the danger of the angered Musketeer, but Athos was showing no mercy. He was not just a Musketeer taking down an enemy, he was an Alpha who had been interrupted with his mate, or potential mate, he was reacting with pure animal instinct. To slay the threat and protect what was his. 

With a brutality that was uncommon for the normally reserved Alpha, Athos sunk his sword deep in the man’s belly, he twisted the blade sliced it outwards, spilling the man’s intestines onto the stable floor. 

The scent of blood filled the air as the man fell to the ground, it added to the musk of Athos and d’Artagnan’s pheromones, making it hard for either of them to think clearly. 

Athos wanted to grab hold of d’Artagnan, to throw him down onto the stable floor and claim him right there. 

His knot was hard and wet in his breeches, his blood pounding in his veins and rushing past his ears, making his head ache with the need for the Omega. 

d’Artagnan too was struggling. The sight of the aroused and angered Alpha in all his glory was making him wet and heated, all his body wanted was for him to go to his knees, to bow his head and present his neck to Athos and bend himself over to get into position for a full claiming. 

It was only the sound of more gun shots that had the two of them ignoring their animal instincts and leaving the stables, taking just long enough to do up their breeches as they went, which was no at all pleasant for Athos considering his unsated arousal. 

 

*****

 

Neither Aramis or Porthos paid any attention as the group of men entered the bar. Not at first anyway, figuring they were just customers looking for a place to get a meal and a bed for the night. 

It was only when their leader introduced himself as Athos of the Musketeers did they look up with mirrored scowls. 

The owner of the inn glared at the man. 

“You ain’t Athos of the Musketeers,” he said, “I’ve already got Athos of the Musketeer stayin’ ‘ere and you ain’t ‘im!” 

The leader rose an eyebrow, “Is that so?” he asked his hand going to his pistol 

“That is certainly so.” Aramis said, standing up and pushing his right shoulder forward to reveal the pauldron upon it, as did Porthos who cracked his knuckles ready for a fight, well, the night was going a bit slow!

“And you sure as hell ain’t Musketeers” Porthos growled baring his teeth, “Now where did you get those uniforms?” 

“Sir?” one of the man asked, his voice shaking with nervousness 

“Hold your ground!” the leader yelled, he turned and fired his gun, the shot missing Porthos but killing the old man he’d been playing cards with infuriating Porthos for the cowardly act 

Aramis had his harquebus raised in a moment and fired, he didn’t manage to get the leader as he intended, as the man moved to fast, and shoved one of his men forward letting him take the shot that killed him instantly. 

“Coward!” Aramis spat as Porthos drew his broad sword and threw himself into battle with with a savage roar! A couple of the braver men met his attack with their own blades, while the others fell back, with one or two turning tail to run, not that they got very far by the sounds of swords clashing that came from outside.

“Who the hell are you?” Porthos shouted killing one of his opponents with ease and punching the second in the face hard enough to turn his nose to mangled mess of crushed bone on his face! The third got a large boot between the legs that had him howling in pain and doubling over so Porthos sank his sword through his heart from the back. 

 

Checking the Lemay was safely beneath the table out of harms way Aramis joined the fight bringing his sword down in a brutal slicing motion severing one of the men’s hand from his wrist and preventing him from firing his gun on Porthos, the Inn keeper had by now joined the fight and was wielding a large cooking pot with an impressive amount of savagery, smashing it into the mens facings and heads without mercy! 

“Retreat!” the leader roared making a break for the door, d’Artagnan had just stepped into the inn getting in his way and was treated to a pistol smacking him across the face sending him tumbling back into Athos’s arms affording the man the chance to run for his horse followed by a handful of his remaining men who weren’t on the ground dead or too injured to move. 

“Let them go!” Aramis yelled as Porthos made to go after them, “We’ve got prisoners enough to question.” He grabbed hold of the man who’s hand he’d severed and hauled him to his feet, “Now,” he said with false pleasantness, “We can stop the bleeding and let you live, or I can let Porthos peel your skin off and tan it for a new doublet!” 

Porthos let out a chuckle and grinned at the wilting man. 

“Please!” he whimpered, “I wanna live!”

“You fucking coward!” one of his fellows yelled clutching his smashed nose and let out a grunt as the inn keeper kneed him in the back 

“Keep your trap shut Dujon” another snarled keeping his hand pressed to a sword wound to his side

“Dujon,” Aramis said, “One of Rochefort’s untrained mutts!”, he grinned and pulled the scarf from the mans face, “Isn’t that interesting?” 

 

“Is everything alright?” Constance cried coming down the stairs, just as Athos helped d’Artagnan into the bar, the Omega was pale, and an angry bruise along with split in the flesh was spreading over his left cheek, “Oh God!” she whispered at the sight of him, and the man on the floor

“Thieves I’ll bet,” the Inn Keeper spat in disgust, he looked to the Musketeers appreciatively, “Thank God you were here.”

“Didn’t do him much good” Porthos said with a look to the fallen elder 

“Not your fault.” Aramis said firmly, he gave Lemay a smile as he came out from his hiding place and took the scarf from Aramis’s hands to wrap about Dujon’s wrist as a tourniquet, 

“I’ll have to cauterize,” he said, “This is too severe for stitching, and it’ll need to be done soon.”

“Fine,” Aramis said, “Feel free to skimp on the pain relief!”

Dujon paled further and looked ready to faint!

“Are you alright?” Constance asked helping Athos help d’Artagnan to the bar and sitting him on a stool 

“I’ll be fine,” d’Artagnan said wincing as his jaw ached, “Who are these bastards?” he asked looking to the men on the floor

“Rochefort’s assholes,” Porthos said giving the one with the broken face a kick in the thigh, “And they were just about to tell us everything we want to know,” he grinned ferally, “Unless they want to experience pain, a lot of pain!”

The men in question looked to each other not doubting in the least that if they didn’t do as the Musketeers asked then they would be learning a whole knew definition of the word pain.


	16. Chapter 16

Meung

 

d’Artagnan winced as Constance pressed a cool damp cloth against the angry wound on his head and face, “Are you sure you’re alright?” Athos asked frowning at him, “You could have a concussion, Lemay should check you over,”

Lemay glanced up from where he was heating an iron in the fire. 

“Fuck off!” Dujon yelled, “I’m fucking bleeding to death here! Your bitch can wait his turn!”

“Hey!” Porthos snapped slapping the back of his head, “Watch your mouth, there are ladies and gentlemen present you ignorant little prick!”

Dujon sneered at him and looked back to Lemay who had finished heating the now scolding hot iron, he paled at the sight of it and shrank in on himself. 

“Someone needs to hold him,” Lemay said, “Because this is really gonna hurt.”

 

Porthos cackled dirtily and happily grabbed Dujon by the shoulders, “I’ve got him Doc,” he said, “He ain’t goin no where!”

Clearing his throat Aramis rose from the stool he had been sitting on and approached Constance and d’Artagnan, “The two of you may want to go upstairs,” he advised, “This isn’t going to be pretty”

Constance gazed at the Alpha in disbelief at this and d’Artagnan laughed out loud, “You should try having a Pup!” the young Comte said, “Learn the definition of what really isn’t pretty!”

Aramis had the grace to grimace at that. He had never witnessed a birth or whelping, but he had seen bloody sheets being discarded, along with afterbirth which was good for fertilizing the ground and growing vegetables. It always seemed amazing to him how much pain Beta Women and Omega’s could endure and want to go through it more than once! If he had to suffer through pain like that there was no way in hell he’d go through the torment again, yet they did, going through hours of agony, discomfort, degradation, blood loss, and strain to deliver baby after baby and Pup after Pup!.

Whomever said that Omegas and Beta Females were the weaker of the genders and sexes was complete fool!.

 

As Lemay pressed the hot metal against Dujon’s skin he let out an agonized scream of pain, the smell of searing human flesh filled the air turning everyone’s stomachs. 

Dujon shuddered in Porthos’s merciless grip and after a breath battle lost consciousness and slumped against the larger man. 

“Pussy!” Porthos sneered in disgust only to have Lemay scowl at him 

“How well do you think you would handle a cauterizing?” he asked taking the blade away and dropping it into a bucket of water which hissed and spat

“better than he did!” Porthos muttered shifting around and propping Dujon up against the nearest wall available and rising to his feet, wincing as his knees clicked

“Getting old!” Aramis teased

Porthos leered at him, “I ain’t the one with grey in me hair!”

The effect that had was hilarious as Aramis’s hands immediately went to his cherished black locks and his fingers began to card through them in search of the hated silver streaks that Porthos spoke of!

“Look at ‘im!” Porthos snorted to Athos, picking up the bottle of wine that the inn keeper had graciously gifted them and pouring himself a cup, “Worse than a preening peacock!”

Athos snuffed a snort through his nose and shook his head at his friends antics, well used to their tormenting each other, his focus however was on d’Artagnan who was leaning against the bar rubbing his temple with his right hand, obviously nursing a headache 

“Aramis stop faffing about with your hair and help me bind his wrist will you?” Lemay said exasperated with the vain Alpha.

Whirling on his toes Aramis graced Lemay with blinding smile, “Why of course my dearest, you had only to ask and I am at your service!”

The Omega rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the blush on his cheeks or the slight smile on his lips at Aramis’s blatant flirting.

 

Between them they carefully bound Dujon’s stump and set his arm in a sling, then treated the wounds of the remaining Bastille guards, securing all of them to take them to Paris the following morning. 

“You’re good at this,” Lemay commented admiring the neat stitching Aramis had done

“Plenty of practise on injuries in the field,” Aramis replied, he nodded his head to Porthos, “He’s got a couple on his back that I stitched for him, you’d never realize how deep the wounds were the scarring’s so small,”

Lemay grinned at him, “You’ve done plenty of gun shot wounds as well as sword wounds I should think,”

“Oh dozens, and arrow and crossbow bolt wounds,” Aramis replied, “I’ve even set and splinted fractures in the field from time to time, minor ones you realize, not ones sticking out of the skin, those the barber surgeon takes care of, a quick amputation and cauterizing of the wound”

Lemay’s nose wrinkled, “Unnecessary,” he said

Aramis frowned, “The limb can’t be saved,”

“Of course it can!” Lemay said looking up at him, “You set it just the same as you do a minor fracture, disinfect the wound, splint the limb, stitch the cut and let it heal. The bone will heal itself over time and they will use the limb again.” Aramis looked at him in disbelief, “Believe me,” Lemay said, “I’ve done it several times.”

Aramis shook his head, “Could you teach me?” he asked, “I’ve seen too many soldiers lost to amputation on the field, if I can save them from that then they can return to work in time, won’t have to struggle to survive on the pittance of a pension from the King” 

“Alright,” Lemay agreed, “I’ll show you how.”

The two of them shared a grin, their eyes dancing as they stared at each other. One of the Bastille guards groaned, “Get a fucking room will yer!”

Aramis shot the man an annoyed look while Lemay flushed and turned back to packing away his supplies. 

 

*****

 

Gordet knew there was absolutely no way that Rochefort would protect them now they had been rumbled. He would disown them in a heartbeat to save his own skin. The man had learned to trick of survival in a Spanish Prison and never forgot it, would never throw himself on a sword for someone. 

They were on their own now, he and his men, if they were to survive they would have to stick together and find a way to stay out of Rochefort’s way, as well as the Musketeers. 

 

“Where are we going Sir?” one of the man asked 

“The old fortress outside the city,” Gordet shouted back at him, “We’ll set camp there, only go into the city under the cover of darkness, turn over a few more rich bastards in their carriages then prepare to leave the city for good.”

“Leave for where?” another murmured 

“Wherever we want shit for brains!” another sneered and Gordet heard the sound of a hand against a head as someone was thumped!

He wiped ran from his face, the heavens had opened during their ride and it was pouring down almost blindingly, he wanted to get off the road, find shelter and wait it out. But he knew they had to keep moving, Musketeers were not the sort to be crossed, the king elite, they were more than just soldiers, they were the warriors that all soldiers aspired to become, the greatest of swordsmen, musket and pistol shots, most lethal at hand to hand, it was said that One Musketeer was worth a dozen regular soldiers on the battle field, their pauldron could strike fear into the hearts of the enemy, their banner bring hope and courage to war weary hearts of the regular troops. Trying to discredit them had been a brilliant and daring thought of Rochefort but it’s failure did mean that Gordet would have to flee, because he knew that if he did not then he and his men would be hunted down by the Musketeers and would be exceedingly lucky if there was enough left of them after their capture for them to be put on trial!.

 

*****

 

Sat before the age stained mirror with the morning sunlight shining through the windows d’Artagnan winced as Constance plucked his eyebrows, shaping them and filling in with kohl. 

His face she rinsed in lemon juice, milk and egg white to tighten and cleanse the skin, then applied a base coat of bismuth, sandlewood, and egg white to cover the bruise and cut as much as possible. The application on his skin made d’Artagnan yelp and moan as Constance lathered it on. 

“I look like a consumptive!” he complained looking at the pale hue on his face 

“Oh hold still and stop moaning!” Constance scolded gathering more sandlewood and finely ground rose petals, “We’re not done yet!”

d’Artagnan sighed, “That’s what worries me!”

Constance chuckled, while she wore make-up every day, styled her hair and saw to it that her gowns were pretty and becoming, d’Artagnan really hadn’t bothered with his appearance since the death of his Mate, he rarely used make-up or got himself dressed up, lived in his well worn shirts and breeches day in day out. 

She wouldn’t say he’d let himself go because he hadn’t, but it was a shame he had stopped caring about his appearance considering how very young he was. Not that he needed make-up, he was attractive enough without it, but the make-up was a must for court so he had to endure being dolled up by Constance. 

 

She applied a powder of sandlewood, crushed rose petals, and ground almond shavings to his face to add a little more colour so he didn’t look consumptive though that was a fashion among the nobility to have bone white skin. She also applied a little rouge to his cheeks to bring out some colour there.   
His eyelids she dusted over in powdered walnut and heavily underlined them in kohl to give them a sultry look and make the most of the chocolate brown irises. The final touch was his lips which she coated in cochineal, turning them blood red. 

“And now I look like a damn doll!” d’Artagnan complained unhappily as Constance began to take the curling rags from his hair which she had tied up the night before, thick loose curls spilled down onto his shoulders and she swept them back to secure them with a black ribbon to match the outfit he was to wear. 

Dressed in black silk stockings with black shoes, his black damask breeches, black linen shirt, black silk jerkin, and black satin doublet d’Artagnan was ready to go. 

The bruising on his face was still visible of course, but the make-up was helping to conceal it somewhat. With Constance just behind him in a black gown, her hair neatly pinned up a modest and secure bun with a black lace veil pinned over it, the two of them descended the stairs to where the Musketeers were waiting for them, playing a game with Evony who too was in a black gown and shrieking with laughter as she was danced about the room on top of Porthos’s feet!

Aramis was the first spot them and nudged Athos in the side. The older alpha frowned then his mouth went dry at the sight of d’Artagnan in full court finery. Jewellery had been added to his outfit, several rings on his fingers, and a heavy jewelled chain over his shoulders studded with black sapphires and diamonds. 

 

“Are we presentable for court?” he asked as they reached the bottom of the stairs, he turned a full circle for the Musketeers to get the full benefit of the sight of him

“More than presentable!” Aramis declared, “In fact I don’t think the court is good enough for you!”

“Aye,” Porthos agreed stopping dancing and admiring the sight of Constance in her black gown, she might say it was not her colour but the dramatic contrast between her pale skin and the dark shade was startling enough to be pleasing to the eye,

Wetting his lips Athos got to his feet and prepared to speak just as Evony ran over to him and seized his hands, “Oman Oncle Porthos and Oncle Aramis have been teaching me to dance!” she enthused 

d’Artagnan rose a plucked eyebrow, Oncle Porthos and Oncle Aramis? “Have they?” he asked “Did you have fun?” 

“Yeah, lots!”

“Well good, and I hope you said thank you,” d’Artagnan said brushing a lock of her dark hair behind her ear, biting her bottom lip Evony turned to the two Musketeers, 

“Thank you!” she chirped happily

“Anytime Mon petit” Aramis declared sweeping her a gallant bow that made her giggle

Clearing his throat Athos placed his hat on his head, “I think it’s time we departed,” he said and offered his arm to d’Artagnan, ignoring the chuckles and inhales that this actions brought him from the others. 

Smiling d’Artagnan took his arm, he would not be riding Zad today but riding in the carriage to keep his clothing pristine on the journey. While she tried to run ahead he took hold of Evony’s hand and made her walk beside him to the carriage. Behind them Aramis was escorting Lemay, and Porthos was escorting Constance. 

 

“We need to talk about last night,” Athos whispered into d’Artagnan’s ear, they had not had chance the night before, after securing the prisoners they’d all been tired and gone to get some sleep to ride to Paris the following morning, and this morning the time had been taken up having breakfast and getting ready so they had not spoken yet.

“We do,” d’Artagnan agreed in an equally low voice, “After my audience with the King, come to the chambers he grants me and we’ll speak in private”

Athos made a noise in his throat, “I need to report to the garrison, to Captain Treville.”

d’Artagnan clucked his tongue, “Tonight?” he asked hopeful 

“I’ll do my best,” Athos promised opening the carriage door and helping d’Artagnan inside, his hand lingered upon the Omega’s and they stared at each other with longing, “Tonight,” Athos repeated forcing himself to step away,

“Yes,” d’Artagnan whispered, his hand tingling from the touch of Athos’s hand “Tonight.”


	17. Chapter 17

The Louvre

 

While Evony all but leaped out of the carriage and made to bolt towards the palace, keen to start exploring, this whole thing one great big adventure to her, d’Artagnan held back in trepidation. Porthos fortunately grabbed the over excited Pup and slung her up over his shoulder like she was a sack of grain which set the little girl laughing loudly and swinging her legs in enjoyment of being hefted around by the large Musketeer. 

“I wanna go explore!” she yelled right into Porthos’s ear

“You can explore later little one,” Constance said taking her from Porthos and setting her on the ground, taking a moment to straighten her gown and make the girl look presentable to go and see the King and Queen. 

“Alright?” Athos asked d’Artagnan, speaking quietly to the too pale Omega who was gazing at the palace worriedly 

“Uh huh,” d’Artagnan replied distractedly 

“Lets go!” Evony cried 

“Okay, okay,” d’Artagnan said taking her hand so she couldn’t run off, taking a deep breath he looked to the Palace and headed for the doors. 

 

*****

 

Evony was all wide eyes and curious gasps as they walked through the halls of the Louvre. Athos led the way with Porthos and Aramis bringing up the rear, creating a protective barrier between d’Artagnan and his entourage and the rest of the court. 

The servants, for the most part went about their business, keeping their heads down and made themselves inconspicuous as the party past them by, only looking up and studying the new comers as they had gone by. 

The guards gave the group a cursory glance over but knew better than to stare or speak out. It was the courtiers that had no sense of tact, happily stopping to stare at d’Artagnan and whisper to one another about who he was. 

“The Comte D’Artagnan,”

“He looks like a pup himself!” 

“Already has a Pup and is widowed!”

“A fine match I should warrant, bring a fat dowry with him too!”

“Plus half of Gascony!”.

 

Athos grit his teeth in irritation. Didn’t these people have any manners at all? Despite all their airs and graces, demands to be treated as if they were divine, the Nobility and Gentry had less tact or sense of delicacy than any of the commons did. It was one of the things Athos missed least about being part of society. That and the endless snide comments, back stabbing, social climbing, and power plays. Yes life as a common soldier was far more preferable to dealing with this lot on a daily basis. 

As they reached the double doors that led into the Throne room the party paused, d’Artagnan checked Evony over and smoothed down his own clothes before the Usher announced them. 

“Now remember don’t run forward or speak until spoken to,” d’Artagnan said to Evony, and when we reach the dais you need to curtsey,”

“I’ll remember,” Evony promised giving him a beaming smile, satisfied d’Artagnan nodded to the Usher who turned and opened the doors

“His Grace Charles d’Batz Comte D’Artagnan and Seigneur de Castlemore.”

 

d’Artagnan felt every eye in the room turn towards him and stare as he walked through the court towards the King and Queen. 

Both were seated upon their thrones, garbed in rich ornate clothing of silks, satins, gold and silver thread. They wore their crowns upon their coiffed and wigged heads, Queen Anne’s looking natural and elegant, while King Louis wig looked like a poodle had been sheered and he’s put the fur on his head!. 

He was a small man, his build medium but heading towards fat from lack of exercise and over indulgence in rich food. The make up on his face was too heavy but very fashionable, the bone white face paint, overly rouged cheeks and false beauty spot all added to the overly elaborate garb of the King’s person. He looked like a man who was trying to make up for his personal short comings by being overly grandiose in his wardrobe. 

The Queen by contrast looked every inch the imperial Princess she was. She sat proud and straight backed on her throne, her gaze shrewd and penetrating while her face remained an emotionless mask of neutrality. 

d’Artagnan felt that gaze upon him as he reached the dais, and had to supress a shudder as he moved into a graceful bow, besides him Evony and Constance dipped curtsies, their gowns pooling on the floor at their feet. 

Louis leaned forward with a toothy grin “Arise, Comte D’Artagnan,” he commanded

Smoothly d’Artagnan rose to his feet, Constance rising with him as did Evony though her rise was a little wobbly,

“Are you King!?” she exclaimed making d’Artagnan silently curse and Constance nearly swallow her tongue!

Louis however appeared charmed by this and grinned at the Pup, “Indeed I am little one,” he said leaning forward more and the crown looked like it might slid down and bounce off his nose!  
“And whom are you?”

“I’m Evony!” the Pup proudly declared, “This is my Oman!” she said pointing to d’Artagnan who felt the blood rush to his cheeks, “And this is Constance my Governess, and Dr Lemay!” 

Constance blushed and Lemay squirmed at the sudden scrutiny they were under 

Louis laughed thoroughly charmed by the outspoken Pup, “You are a precocious Pup, I’ll bet you keep your Oman on his toes!”

“Oh she does, Your Majesty,” d’Artagnan said

“Perhaps she should learn when to hold her tongue,”

The quiet but unmistakable sentence came from the left of Anne’s throne, and the Comte de Rochefort could be seen, standing beside the Queen, looming over the court like a vulture waiting to swoop down on prey.

d’Artagnan bristled, his temper rising at the jibe to his parenting, “Do you have offspring, Sir?” he asked icily

Rochefort rose an eyebrow, “I do not.”

“Then kindly hold your own tongue when it comes to raising of Pups, clearly you know not what you speak, and, since you brought up the subject of speaking out of turn, perhaps you should learn not to interrupt other peoples conversations, It is rather rude!”.

 

Aramis snickered and nudged Porthos with his elbow, enjoying d’Artagnan’s dressing down of Rochefort. On the Kings right, Richelieu, in his customary black leather doublet and breeches quirked his lips in a smile at the young Comte’s reprimand of Rochefort, even the King seemed amused by it, The Queen though gave d’Artagnan an icy glare. 

“I can see where she has inherited her personality,” the Queen said pointedly looking d’Artagnan over, “You are very young to have such a grown Alphter,”

d’Artagnan smiled back acidic and equally cool, “As your Majesty is quite late in having your Son, the Dauphin. Age should never be considered right or wrong when it comes to such matters, don’t you agree?” 

The Queen’s cheeks flamed, she had born the humiliation of not producing an heir for so many years through out her marriage to the King. The only reason she had not been cast aside and condemned for being infertile was the fact that Louis had no bastards with which to prove his own fertility. At least now she did have the Dauphin, the succession was secured, though a Duke of Orleans would be needed to be doubly secure, in case anything happened to The Dauphin. 

Louis clapped his hands, “I can see you shall be a lively addition to my court, d’Artagnan,” he said to the Omega, “You will be staying for the season?” 

“I shall Majesty,” d’Artagnan replied, “The of course I must go to see to my Father.., my estates,”

Louis nodded his head sympathetically, “I know what it is to lose your Father young, I know the grief you suffer, Know that you do not grieve alone,”

“Thank you, Majesty,” d’Artagnan murmured ducking his head a little 

“On a brighter note!” Louis declared, unable to bear a melancholy subject for more than a few minutes, “We should start looking for a Future Husband or Wife for you!” 

“Ah, sire..,” Richelieu murmured, this really wasn’t the time for this! But Louis ignored him anyway and continued regardless of his Ministers misgivings

“You are too young to be alone, a bright and energetic Omega like you should be bonded and making little Evony here some playmates!”

D’Artagnan flushed as the court chuckled with laughter, he could feel the eyes of the unbonded and widowed Alphas and Beta Men in the room eyeing him over, considering themselves for possible matches to him. He was also very aware of Athos, the Alpha forced to remain silent but seething and bristling with impotent anger. If anyone were to mate him then it would be Athos, no one else would do, even if they were a King!.

“I thank your Majesty,” d’Artagnan said cautiously, “But I must decline, I do not feel disposed towards Marriage at present,”

“Oh but you must move your heart towards it!” the Queen said with silken malice, “Youth is fleeting, you should wed while you are still able to give a mate an heir!”

d’Artagnan lifted his chin defiantly, “I have an heir,” he stated, “When I wed Evony’s Father it was for Love, I will not marry again unless it is also for love,”

“A bold statement thought perhaps not a wise decision!”

A female voice came from behind d’Artagnan and he turned to see an elegant Alpha woman walking through the crowd, she dipped a curtsey to the Royals and looked at d’Artagnan 

“To marry for love is Romantic but is it practical, in fact is marriage practical at all? Is it not better to remain autonomous than to be bound for life to another?” she asked 

Louis chuckled, “Comtesse de Larroque, as ever your wit is sharp and stimulating! Perhaps you and our pretty Gascon could explore the pros and cons of marriage together? It would be an auspicious match I dare say!”

d’Artagnan was torn between laughter and shock as the Comtesse turned to look at him, “A tempting offer,” she mused, “But I think our Fair Comte is a little young for myself,” Your Majesty,” she declared, “Though I shall gladly act as Chaperone and protector for his Grace if any suitors wish to court him, and offer myself as guide for his time in Paris,”

d’Artagnan was startled by the offer and was nearly unable to answer, after unsticking his throat he bowed to the Comtesse, “I would be honoured, “Your Grace,”

“Ninon, please,” 

“Then you must call me Charles,” 

Ninon beamed, “Charmed,” she said taking his hand and kissing his knuckles, into his palm she slipped a piece of folded up paper and wiggled her plucked eyebrows, warning him to say nothing in public, 

A messenger quietly made his way up to Richelieu and handed over a letter from a silver tray which the Cardinal took and quickly read, grimacing as he did so, “The Spanish Ambassador has arrived Sire,” 

Louis groaned loudly making no secret of his displeasure at this, sighing he looked to d’Artagnan, “I hope we may speak together again soon,”

“As do I your Majesty,” d’Artagnan said bowing once again. He and the others walked back five paces before turning their backs to the royals to head for their apartments and the Musketeers to the garrison to speak with Treville about the attack on the Inn and these false Musketeers. 

The note from Ninon burned in d’Artagnan’s hand and he was eager to get behind closed doors to read it.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhh, it's been a while since I updated this one! I'm fighting writers block on this so chapters maybe sporadic but I will complete this, I promise.

The Louvre

The apartments granted to him, were spacious and luxurious, befitting nobility of his station. There was a large bedchamber, with an ajoining privy, and bathroom, a parlour for entertaining, a smaller room for Evony, with a small room beyond it for Constance. 

Lemay already had rooms secured for him in Paris, and left as soon as d’Artagnan was settled in, promising to meet with him again soon. 

“Can we go and see the gardens now? Can we go exploring? Please, please, PLEASE!” Evony yelled, climbing onto d’Artagnan’s bed to jump up and down, uncaring as her hair began to tangle and her skirts became crumpled, 

“Soon pet,” d’Artagnan said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the letter placed into his hand by the Comtesse de Larroque. He turned his back to the servants as they set about unpacking his trunks, being directed by Constance where to put everything. The letter wasn’t sealed with wax as letters usually were, this was just folded over, having probably been written in haste and delivered straight into d’Artagnan’s hand, rather than going via servants as mail normally did. 

Unfolding the parchment, d’Artagnan frowned as he quickly read over the slightly smudged words, he was right about it being written in haste, Ninon had not even waited for the ink to dry before folding the letter over. 

 

I know who you really are,  
I know your family tree.  
Be wary, you are surrounded by enemies here,   
do not trust Rochefort, he is a snake in the grass,  
and do not trust the Queen, he has her dancing to his tune.  
Take care little Prince, and care of your heiress, you are both in danger.

Yours Sincerely   
Ninon de Larroque

 

d’Artagnan shivered as icy fingers had just run down his spine. Wetting his lips and running his front teeth over his bottom lip, he folded the letter back up, hiding it away in his palm, wanting to burn it, to destroy the evidence lest anyone be he see it. 

“Is everything alright?” Constance asked, frowning at him, “You’ve gone very pale,”

d’Artagnan’s face felt waxen as he forced his mouth into a smile, “Fine,” he lied, “How about a walk around the gardens hmm?” 

“YEAH!” Evony cheered, leaping off the bed and running to the door, “Come on, come on!” she cried, “Let’s go!”

“Alright, calm down, the gardens aren’t going anywhere,” d’Artagnan said, forcing a laugh from himself. He felt like a marionette as he walked to the door, his joints stiff and his limbs wooden, nothing natural or fluid. 

Danger. 

He’d known he’d be in danger, but only in the abstract sense, not the practical, and to have that confirmed in literal black and white was terrifying. How Ninon de Larroque knew of him was just a troubling. His Father had never spoken of the Larroques save as one of the most powerful families in France. So far as d’Artagnan knew he had no connection to her. But, the Larroques did go back as far as his own family did, their heritage was lengthy, it was possible that some ancestors of theirs had been friendly. 

This was if d’Artagnan chose to look on the bright side and accept Ninon as a friend without question, the flip side, was that she was in fact an enemy, setting out to poison his mind against others, to isolate him and usurp him for her own intentions. 

Both conclusions were just as possible, and just as worrying. For both himself, and for Evony. 

 

As they stepped out into the sunlight and Evony ran out onto the grass, immediately doing a cartwheel, despite Constance chiding her, and worrying over her skirts that would get ruined, d’Artagnan found himself looking around, his eyes seeking out every shadow, every window of the palace, the rooftops, any place an assassin may hide and strike from.  
He wished that Athos had remained by his side and not gone to the garrison, wished he had more protection than just his sword on his hip, he couldn’t trust the Kings guards, couldn’t trust anyone right now. 

He needed to speak with Ninon and soon, needed to learn what she knew. Fore-warned was forearmed as they said.

“I want to play hide and seek!” Evony cried, tugging d’Artagnan’s hand, and bringing him out of his thoughts, “Can we?” she asked, giving him her best puppy dog eyes and wheedling smile, 

“Yes, but don’t stray too far,” d’Artagnan agreed, “You hide and I’ll count to ten and come find you,”

“No you won’t, I’ll be super sneaky!” Evony yelled, tearing off to go and find hiding place while d’Artagnan loudly counted to ten, and began to make dramatic attempts at finding her, ignoring the sight of her skirts sticking out from behind a tree!

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Constance asked, “You seem…, troubled,”

d’Artagnan made sure to keep a smile on his face and his voice low, in case anyone was watching, 

“I have been given warning that I am in danger,” he heard Constance take a sharp inhale, and carefully nudged her side with his elbow, “Don’t make a scene, play along,”

Constance fixed a smile onto her face, and made herself keep from revealing her shock and fear. 

“The Comtesse de Larroque wrote me warning,” d’Artagnan explained, “She claims to know who I am, called me a Prince, told me not to trust Rochefort, or the Queen.”

Constance scoffed, “The Queen was not exactly welcoming, and that Rochefort was a reptile,”

A genuine smile quirked d’Artagnan’s lips at this, “He was rather repugnant.” He agreed, then he frowned, “The Queen however, she is…, complex, she has no reason to hate or fear me, I am no threat to her, and I doubt very much that she knows of my family history, I wouldn’t have gotten within a mile of court if she did,”

“Oh God!”, Constance, gave up the pretence and grabbed his arm, “The attack at the Inn!” she exclaimed, d’Artagnan’s eyes widened, then he shook his head, 

“That was something to do with the Musketeers, nothing to do with me,”

“How can you be sure?” 

As Constance stared at him, d’Artagnan realized she was right, he couldn’t be sure at all. 

 

 

Garrison

 

Fellow Musketeers were training, or grooming their horses, or tending their weapons, as Treville, Athos, Aramis, and Porthos arrived at the garrison. They dismounted without ceremony, Treville did not demand that he be saluted on arrival, he didn’t need that show of obedience, he knew his Men respected him enough without them doing that, and so did not have them stand on such ceremony. 

He led the way up to his office, going straight to his drinks cabinet and getting out four pewter cups and a bottle of brandy, which he poured into the cups, a generous amount of liquor for them to enjoy. 

“Ah Captain, you are a beautiful man!” Aramis shamelessly breathed, as he took a mouthful, savouring the taste, Treville glared at him, 

“Attempt any of your seduction routines on me, and I promise you Aramis, the only position you will be good for is singing along side choir boys!”

Aramis had the grace to winced, and pressed his legs closer together for safety’s sake!

“Now, Talk,” Treville said, directing his order to Athos. 

“We were escorting the Comte D’Artagnan to court, while bringing the last of the rebels to face the Kings justice. We stopped at Meung for a nights rest, intending to ride out in the morning bright and early. During the evening the Inn and we were attacked, by men claiming to be Musketeers, they were even in uniforms, though ill fitting, and damaged, blood stained, and bullet and sword holes. They were obviously not expecting to find Musketeers at the Inn, we fought them, were assisted by the Comte, and we managed to capture a number of them, wounding them, and killing others. The rest however escaped. Under the leadership of Gordet, or so Dupis claimed,”

Trevile clenched his jaw and let out a slow breath through his nose, “Gordet,” he murmured, “He’s Rochefort’s man, one of his Captains,”

“One of his most trusted,” Porthos grunted, downing his brandy, 

“Do you think he’s acting on Rochefort’s orders, or just going into business for himself? God knows Rochefort is tight with his coffers, he pays his men a pittance, it wouldn’t be the first time in history a Soldier has sort to line his own pocket by other means.” Athos said, speaking of the distasteful act of soldiers during war times, when they would loot the villages, towns, and cities they went through, taking anything of value they could to add to their pay, which, unless they were elite, like the Musketeers, amounted to a few measly sous. 

“Both are possible,” Treville said, thoughtfully, “They have been other thefts reported, acts of violence, witnesses have said they have seen a Fleur de lis on the mens uniforms,” 

“Gordet,” Porthos said, “But why wear Musketeer uniforms, and where the hell did they get them?”

Treville closed his eyes, letting out a deep sigh, “Cornet,” he whispered, “He was carrying a message to a Monestary, he’s over due coming back, long over due.”

Aramis lifted his chin up, his dark eyes shining bright, “Gordet could have ambushed them, that’s how they got to uniforms,”

“Supposition,” Athos said, then shrugged, “But likely,” he looked to Treville, “We should investigate,”

“Which is why you will trace their footsteps,” Treville ordered, “Eat, drink, refresh yourselves, and let your horses have a good rest, then get on the road, I want our men found,”

“And Gordet?” Porthos asked, “That cockroach is still skittering around unchecked,”

Treville smiled slightly, “Leave that to me,”

 

*****

 

It was not Musketeers that Treville chose to send to search for Gordet, instead he sent word to Richelieu, and had him put his best Red Guards on the job. He wasn’t bothered by which of them got the glory of bringing Gordet in, The Musketeers had already uncovered Gordet’s actions, and brought the evidence to the King, thus distinguishing themselves and the regiment, it would not matter if the Red Guard were the ones to bring in the rogues, and Treville wanted to focus on having Cornet and his men found and brought home. 

 

Aramis, Porthos, and Athos, all took to their rooms, to change their shirts, take a meal, and rest themselves, planning to ride out at dusk and get a good distance between themselves and Paris before nightfall. 

Athos spent the time regretfully writing a letter to d’Artagnan, explaining that they would have to postpone their talk for a later date. 

Sighing heavily he folded the letter over and sealed it with wax, actually digging out his old signet ring to mark the seal as being that of the Comte de la Fare. 

“Just my luck, I spend years uninterested in love, and the moment I do become interested the entire world conspires to keep me separated from my hearts desire!” he grumbled, making his way down to the yard, and went over to where Jacques the stable boy was lounging on bale of hay, munching on an apple, “Hey, want to earn a few sous?” Athos asked, tapping the boy on the head with the letter,

“Yes Monsieur!” Jacques eagerly said, getting to his feet and dusting stray straw and hay off his person, 

“Take this to the Louvre, and give it to one of the pages, tell them it is to be given to the Comte D’Artagnan and no other, do you understand?” 

“The Comte D’Artagnan and no other,” Jacques dutifully repeated, he grinned as Athos gave him the letter and the coins, 

“Don’t spend it all in the nearest tavern,” Athos called after the lad, as he bolting into the stable to get his old nag from her stable, “At your age you’ll stunt your growth!” he muttered, heading back to his rooms, squinting in the sunlight, and hoping that he would be back in Paris soon, so he and d’Artagnan may talk.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween! 
> 
> I thought I'd post this before I head out. I'm dressed as Harley Quin from Suicide Squad and hoping I don't freeze to death in the fish net tights!

“D’Artagnan.” 

Queen Anne spoke the name as she sat in her Son’s nursery watching as the young Dauphin played with a wooden horse on the floor. She turned her head, looked up at Rochefort, who was standing before the elegant table at which she sat, his left hand as always resting on his sword as if he were ready to fight a foe. “Do you know of him?” she asked, 

Rochefort shook his head, “I know of the title, of course, of his family, but of the man himself, nothing,” 

Anne hummed and smiled tightly, trying to look casual, “He’s very…, young,” she said, a slight sharpness to her words, her own advancing years were a sore point. Living the life she did, in the vain world of the most fashionable Court in the world, she was always very aware of getting older, of the silver strands in her hair, the lines besides her eyes stretching out towards her hairline, the fine lines about her mouth, and the deepening of the marionette lines. So seeing an Omega so much younger than herself always brought out a level of jealousy in her. 

“He’s attractive,” she offered, “In a dark, sultry sort of way,” 

Rochefort shrugged, “If you like skinny Omegas,” 

“You don’t?” Anne asked, surprised, Alpha’s generally wanted Omegas more than Beta women, Omegas were more fertile than Beta women. During in their heats, which occurred three to four times a year, there was a three in four percent chance of them conceiving. So if an Alpha was looking to have a family, there was almost a guarantee that they would have one with an Omega on the first try. There were also eight or nine months of the year they could have sex with an Omega without the worry of a pregnancy if they weren’t looking to make a family. 

With Beta women it was more complicated, they had a one in four percent chance of conception during the week of their fertility, so there was far less guarantee of a conception. There were also only two weeks during a month that sex would not lead to a pregnancy, the third and fourth being the week of fertility and their bleeding. 

So for Rochefort to claim he had not great love for Omegas, was quite a surprise for Anne. 

“There is something excessive about Omega’s,” Rochefort said, drawing the words out slowly, as if he were waking from a deep sleep, “There is something to be said for things being in moderation, and I like the moderation that Beta’s represent.”

“Moderation?” Anne chuckled, preening a little at the praise, odd though it was,   
“Indeed,” Rochefort said, “Something that Omegas fail at completely.” He walked a little closer to the table and gestured to the chairs, silently asking to sit, which Anne graciously allowed. 

“Are you concerned over this, new little Comte?” he asked her, tapping his ink stained finger nails on the table top, “I think there is something curious about him, something about his family, but I can’t put my finger on it,” he pushed down his index finger on the table top as he said it, “Something I will endeavour to look into.”

Anne smiled fully now, she reached across the table, her arm slipped out from under her lace sleeve, revealing flawless alabaster skin that Rochefort could not look away from. “That’s what I like about you Rochefort,” she said, “You never leave anything to chance, you’re always looking out for us,”

Daringly, Rochefort covered Anne’s smaller, slender hand with his own larger, calloused hand, his thumb rubbing gently on her smooth skin, “Always,” he promised, a manic gleam in his cold, heartless eyes.

 

 

*****

 

With Athos away for several days, d’Artagnan was at somewhat of a lose end, which meant he had no reason not to go to Ninon de Larroque’s salon. 

He could delay, could wait and speak to Athos about it, get his opinion on Ninon, and whether or not she should be trusted. But he was not a patient person, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to settle until he had gone and spoken to her, the questions would just keep going round and round in his head and he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from imagining the worst possible scenarios and completely scaring himself. 

So, he decided to spare himself the distress and just go to the Salon and get this over with. At least then he would know where he stood and could plan accordingly. 

 

Constance wanted to go with him, to act as moral support, but d’Artagnan vetoed this, reminding her that someone had to care for Evony, and he wasn’t taking her to the Salon, so, dressed in the best of his mourning clothes, he made the ride from the Louvre, through the streets of Paris, to Ninon’s Salon. 

Ninon’s salon was clearly a popular place for the more academic members of society. As it was teaming with elegantly clad ladies, and gentlemen. Some sat at table openly discussing matters of philosophy, literature, the sciences, even Religious and political matters, as they sipped wine, and ate small cakes and other pastries from dainty plates.

Others sat alone reading, or sketching with charcoal, the elegant sculptures that Ninon had set up about the salon, a very beautiful, dark haired woman sat with her back to a pillar observing d’Artagnan over the rim of her book, her expression was neutral, but her cat like eyes were sharp with scrutiny, making d’Artagnan feel like he was being undressed. 

Shifting uncomfortably, he averted his gaze, seeking out Ninon herself. 

She was stood before one of the tables, garbed in a simple apple green gown of silk, with an open bodice, that revealed her white lawn cloth chemise. Her golden hair was pinned up, with a section of curls brought around to hang decoratively over her right shoulder. 

Making sure he appeared casual and at ease, d’Artagnan slowly made his way to Ninon, stopping a few paces behind her, and letting her continue to talk to the group at the table. 

“In this age of wonders, we cannot be constrained by the ignorance of past doctrine, that has been proven false. It is our duty, to ourselves, and to our future generations, that we explore all that has been set before us, learn all that we can, and not allow ourselves to shrink away in fear of something new, simply because it may contradict the teachings of medieval times.”

Several of the ladies at the table nodded their heads in open agreement of this, while the single gentleman frowned at Ninon, “I doubt that the Church will agree with such a notion, your Grace,” he said, “They still contend the claims that the Earth orbits the Sun and not the other way around,”

Ninon smiled congenially, “That merely proves that the Vatican is filled with ignorant, superstitious, old men, whose grasp on reality is slipping away from them.”

Scandalized laughter followed this statement, and one of the ladies spotted d’Artagnan, recognizing him from Court the day before. 

“Will you join us, your Grace?” she asked, pleasantly, “We always welcome new minds to our group, to add to our debates.”

“Debates is it?” The Gentleman, who had cautioned Ninon, laughed, “I thought what we did was argue and fight tooth and nail!” he has a smile on his face as he said this, and the lady who had spoken, playfully swatted him with her fan. 

“Oh do please say that you’ll join us,” another of the group said, “We need a fresh face here, and poor Georges is at risk of being emasculated by all us ladies!” 

Georges grinned lazily, “I am a rose among thorns!” As he was cat called for this, he held up his hands in protest, “I mean a thorn among roses, of course, I misspoke!”

“Perhaps later,” d’Artagnan said, he looked to Ninon, drawing a breath, but she laid a hand over his arm, silencing him, 

“We must speak first,” she said, giving the group an apologetic look, 

“Oh Ninon, don’t keep him all to yourself!” one of the ladies pouted, “He’s too beautiful to be hidden away!”

“You’re looking at him like you want to eat him, Alice!” one of the others scolded her, 

“I promise we shall return shortly,” Ninon said, placating her friends. Taking d’Artagnan’s arm, she led him through the salon and into her house, taking him, shockingly to her bed chambers!

 

As Ninon shut and locked the door behind them, d’Artagnan found himself gripping tighter to his sword. It was unheard of for an alpha and omega to be alone in a bed chamber when they were not bonded! Scandalous for them both. 

“Worry not,” Ninon assured him, “Your virtue is safe with me,”

d’Artagnan flushed and ducked his head, wetting his lips with his tongue. “I imagine you have come to see me because of the letter I gave you.”

“Indeed.” d’Artagnan replied, straightening up, “I would like to know what you meant by it.”

Ninon rose a perfectly plucked eyebrow, “Meant?” she asked, “Was that not clear?”

“You say you know of my heritage, say I am in danger. From whom, you?”

Ninon actually laughed at this, seeming genuinely amused by the thought of being considered dangerous. 

“I am no enemy or threat to you, little Prince,” She said, beckoning for him to sit with her on the chaise. Stiff backed and ready to bolt at the slightest provocation, d’Artagnan did as he was bidden, and Ninon sat besides him, facing him. 

“I promise that I am not going to reveal your secret. I understand perfectly why you have kept your claim to the throne hidden. Such a thing is a double edged blade that could easily turn and cut your throat. Especially since the King is not popular, has only one Son, whose parentage has been disputed.” d’Artagnan’s eyes widened, he hadn’t known this, but then, living in the country he wasn’t privy to court gossip like Ninon was. 

“Some have questioned whether or not the Queen was impregnated by The King, have said that after years of seeming infertility, it is highly suspicious that he should suddenly be able to get her with child, have said that the Dauphin is in fact a bastard that she has past off as his child. Some have even said that the King, knowing he is infertile, is complicit, arranged the Father to come and impregnate the Queen, then had him murdered so he could never speak the truth.”

“Nonsense!” d’Artagnan scoffed, “These are the imaginings of fools with too much time on their hands, not a real life situation,”

“Oh, I am sure you are a right,” Ninon said, “But, once rumours start there is no stopping them, and The King has heard of them, and is naturally wary of anything that could cause him to be deposed and the Dauphin barred from the throne.”

d’Artagnan shook his head, “I would never do that, I do not want the throne, I don’t want to be King. I have lands enough, and am content.”

Ninon chuckled, “You are not content, non of us are. Human beings are never content, we are never satisfied, we are greedy gluttonous creatures that are never happy with what we have. We always want more, want something different, want to change something, true and complete contentment is something we non of us ever experience.”

“That’s pessimistic,” d’Artagnan said, 

“Practical,” Ninon countered, “But, let us save philosophical discussions for another time. We have other matters to discuss. Namely The Queen, and Rochefort.”

d’Artagnan remained silent, letting Ninon elaborate. 

“If the King is anxious about his rule and that of his Son. The Queen is paranoid and fanatical. With her failure to produce an heir, her position became increasingly uncertain over the past few years, this naturally made her paranoid and easily spooked and threatened, having her Son should have eased these fears, but if anything they have only strengthened them, though, I believe, that is thanks to Rochefort, whose return to court occurred shortly after the birth and the return of the Queen from confinement.”

d’Artagnan frowned, trying to process this, “You think that Rochefort is manipulating her?”

“I am sure of it,” Ninon replied, “He is dripping poison in her ears, whispering to her, playing on her fears, making her malleable and easily suggestable.”

“But, for what purpose?” d’Artagnan asked, “What could he hope to gain from this? The Queen holds no political sway in French Court, no real power, he’d do better to ingratiate himself with the King, and it seems that Louis can’t stand him,”

Ninon smiled a little, “Louis likes to be amused and indulged like a child, Richelieu, and Treville handle him thus, and so are his favourites. Rochefort has no such skill, is too dour and cold to form any kind of friendship or influence with Louis, so, he uses his all his expertise on the Queen, who, for her Spanish blood, is not popular at French Court.”

d’Artagnan nodded, “She is isolated, lonely, fearful, and he plays on it,”

“Correct,” Ninon stated, “As for what this gains him? well, at present nothing. But, if situations were to change, should the King die while the Dauphin is in his minority, then The Queen would automatically become regent in his stead, and Rochefort, being the Queen’s favourite, would be a natural choice for Lord Protector of the Realm, and King in all but name.”


	20. Chapter 20

The ride to Chartre proved fruitless. Aramis spoke to the Abbot that Cornet was meant to have met with, but neither he, nor his men had arrived or sent word. 

“Something must have happened to them between here and Paris,” Aramis said, to Athos and Porthos, “Gaudet,”

“Plenty of places to stage ambushes along the road,” Athos mused, “We’ll have to search every inch on the ride back to Paris,” 

“Assuming there’s anything left to find,” Porthos grunted, he shrugged his broad shoulders as Aramis and Athos looked at him questioningly, “In the Court, when someone was offed, generally the bodies were got rid of, dumped in the Seine, buried, or burned.”

“That’s one person though,” Aramis said, “We’re talking about a whole squadron, that’s a lot of bodies to dispose of,”

“Not impossible,” Porthos argued, “A mass grave, a pyre,”

“Either way,” Athos said, “We search, if the bodies were burned we will find the remains of the pyre and if a mass grave was dug we will find displaced earth,” He mounted Rogers and turned the horse around, “Let’s get some ground under us before nightfall.”

 

 

*****

 

Paris

 

Chateau des Cardinal 

 

 

Burning the midnight oil was something that Richelieu frequently did. Working as both Cardinal of Paris, and First Minister of France, he was always pressed for time, always had many duties weighing on him, forcing him to sacrifice time to himself in order to get things done. 

Tonight was one of those nights. 

With Treville staying in the garrison, there was little reason to seek his bed anyway, so Richelieu sat in his night shirt and dressing gown at his desk, candles burning around him, as he went over documents, signing some, making corrections to others, and writing himself notes to speak with the author of others. 

He hardly glanced up when the door to his study opened, half expecting it to be one of the cats looking for some attention, however it was not one of his furred friendly, it was in fact Milady de Winter. 

She wore a pale blue gown that contrasted dramatically with her dark hair. It was an unusual shade for her, generally Milady preferred darker or more dramatic shades. Black, red, orange, emerald green, and gold. 

Her hair was also more dramatically styled than was her wont. Normally she wore it loose or in a simple Chignon, but today it was pined up in an elaborate bouffant with loose strands framing her face. 

 

“A little late for a visit is it not?” Richelieu inquired, dipping his quill into the ink and writing on a document, his tongue clucking at the poor penmanship of the document and the many grammatical errors the author had made. 

“I felt that this required your immediate attention, Eminence,” she said, fanning herself with her decorative fan, though the evening air was cool, 

“Trouble?” Richelieu asked, still not looking up, 

“It involves her Grace, the Comtesse de larroque,” 

Richelieu grunted, Ninon was rather a thorn in his side, while he appreciated her appetite for learning, endorsed her encouragement of Beta Women and Omega’s being educated. He too believed that people should be educated regardless of sex or rank, an opinion which placed him in the minority unfortunately, but one he would not change. 

However, Ninon was also highly opinionated, powerful and proud, she had challenged him on various occasions, much to his vexation. Milady bringing him news of her was not something that he really wished for, especially not at such a late hour. 

“She has made.., overtures to the young Comte D’Artagnan,” 

Richelieu scoffed, “Overtures of friendship or courtship?” He rose a hand to forestall her reply, “What should this matter? She is a wealthy Alpha rapidly heading to her thirties and currently without an heir, he is a young and fertile Omega in need of a mate, such a match would not be unwise.”

“Even given who he is?” 

 

Now Richelieu paused. He set down his quill and looked up at Milady’s basilisk gaze, “What do you mean by that?” he asked, 

Milady dared to smile at the Cardinal, not cowering before the warning signs of his growing ire, something that very few would dare to do under any circumstances, since The Cardinal’s temper was dangerous and malicious. 

“Do you really wish for me to say it out loud?” she asked him in return, “Here, where any servant might over hear us and gossip like fish wives? After all I over heard this information while I was at Mademoiselle Larroque’s Salon,”

“Listening at keyholes,” Richelieu sniped, 

“Tis what you pay me for, is it not?” Milady shrugged, “It is concerning is it not? The Last Scion of the Valois come to Paris, allying with a very powerful Comtesse, on the death of his Uncle he will inherit half of Gascony, will command the allegiance of half of France, could raise an army great enough to rival that of the King, and should Ninon ally with him, then several Duc’s and Comtes will chose to side with her, leaving Louis exposed, and you’re position at Court in jeopardy.”

 

Richelieu clenched his teeth painfully hard, what Milady was saying was true, he knew it was true. D’Artagnan would end up as the wealthiest Comte in France, with the death of his Uncle he would inherit half of Gascony and have a formidable force at his disposal. 

With his royal blood and legitimate claim to the Throne that did make him a threat to the Bourbon, and, if the boy had come to court earlier, not just come to show his face and make the transition of power from his late Father to himself, then Richelieu would be more concerned. 

But, as it was, d’Artagnan had never made any sign of being interested in pursuing his royal claims. He had never left Gascony before, and it appeared had no intentions of staying in Paris for more than a single season, was likely to go back to Gascony and remain there, raising his Alphter for the rest of his life. 

In all honesty he did not think that d’Artagnan was a threat, had no intentions of harming the boy. But, he could not let this…, whatever it was with Ninon, go unnoticed, if the two were heading to a courtship, to an alliance, then that could make for a threat he could not ignore. 

“What precisely passed between them while you were listening at the door?” he asked Milady, gesturing to the chair before his desk for her to take a seat, which she did, laying the fan down on her lap, 

“They spoke of many things, The Comtesse assured the boy of her friendship towards him, that she would speak of his heritage to no other person. She also spoke of the danger he is in while at court, danger from Rochefort,”

“That ferret is a danger to everyone,” Richelieu grunted, interrupting Milady, “Gods blood, I wish he had found his death in a Spanish cell,”

“One would think you paid his jailors enough to slit his throat while he was in their possession!”

Richelieu glared at Milady, she did not flinch though, merely smirked, reminding him that she knew all of his secrets, and while Milady might be self-serving, vindictive even, but foolish she was not. She could go to Rochefort with Richelieu’s secrets and be well rewarded for her efforts. But, she knew the Rochefort was a snake in the grass, would bite her at the slightest chance he got, was not, in her opinion entirely sane. He also had a way of looking at women that unnerved her. She would not ever risk herself by making an alliance with such a man. 

“Ninon also spoke of the danger that Queen Anne may pose to d’Artagnan, now that Rochefort has got his hooks into her, and is twisting her to his will,”

“As we all know,” Richelieu murmured, unhappy with the situation. 

“She inferred of plans that Rochefort may have, designs on the Kings life,” Milady said, “She has no proof of course, but, what she was saying did make sense,”

“What things?”

“Well, that if Louis were to die while the Dauphin is in his minority, then with Anne as Regent, he would be well placed and the natural choice to become Lord Protector, and King in all but name.”

Richelieu felt a chill run down his spine at Milady’s almost prophetic words. It did make sense, too much sense. He wanted to go to the King with this, needed to warn him of the danger he might be in, but, without proof the suspicions would be dismissed, Anne would come down on Rochefort’s side, and to please his Wife, Louis would agree with her. 

They needed proof, needed concrete evidence to place before The King, Richelieu could do nothing before then. Well, maybe not nothing.

He lay his hands on the desk and smiled slightly at Milady, “I have a new task for you, My Dear…,”

 

*** 

 

Court it seemed could be quite tedious. Unless one was a member of the privy council there was little that one had to do with their time, save curry favour with those in power, or gossip monger. 

D’Artagnan had no interest in doing either, and found himself thoroughly bored. He paid his respects to the various powerful Nobles to make sure they knew he was a friend to them, showed mild interest in the doings of the court, smile and laughed with Louis made weak jests, the Court laughing sycophantically with him as if he were hilarious and not merely weak witted. 

He showed deference to Queen Anne, and kept his distance from her, feeling her eyes upon him like coals burning into his skin. He could not forget Ninon’s warning, both against Anne and Rochefort, though mercifully, the reptilian Master of the Bastille was absent from Court, was staying at The Bastille for the time being, so d’Artagnan did not have to suffer his attentions along with The Queens. 

 

What he did have to endure was the attentions of many Alphas and Beta Men, all keen to make a match with a young and Fertile Omega. 

He’d been expecting this, it was only to be expected. A young and wealthy widow, already proven fertile, would attract suitors, both out of genuine attraction that could grow into affection, and out of a desire for a fortune and land. 

Were he looking for a mate d’Artagnan would look to start making Courtship, but he was not looking for a mate. Had no intentions of remarrying, he had an heir already, so he did not need a mate to make more heirs, though, a number of heirs was wise. 

There was also another reason he was disinterested in suitors. 

Athos. 

He could not get the Alpha out of his mind, was constantly thinking of him, willing him to return to Paris soon, especially since his heat was fast approaching. 

He could hardly believe that he was considering mating with Athos upon his heat, they had not courted, hardly knew each other, yet he found his imagination conjuring images of himself and Athos in the throes of passion. It was not unusual for his imagination, his dreams to become erotic just before his heat, but up until now, his dreams had been of faceless Alphas, or his Late Husband. Now they were of Athos, of the rugged and powerful Alpha bending him back onto a bed, his calloused hands running over every inch of his flesh, heated kisses on his skin, and teeth piercing his neck. 

If Athos did not come back to Paris soon, d’Artagnan feared he might go mad! Especially if he had to endure mindless conversation from insipid Courtiers for much longer!

“One the jewels lose their shine, the court does seem rather lacking at times,”

d’Artagnan flinched at the unexpected voice, that came from behind him. He turned, his browns drawn together in a frown, and saw, to his surprise, the Beta women who had been eyeing him at Ninon’s Salon, 

“Madame..?”

“De La Chapel,” Milady lied, easily, “I am a friend of, our mutual friend, Ninon de Larroque,”

“Yes, I saw you there, the other day,” d’Artagnan said, “Have you known the Comtesse long?”

“Hmm, a number of years,” Milady said, enigmatically, and smiled, “But, while I will enjoy conversation with you at a later date, I am on another’s business this day, and must be about it,” she took from her pocket a letter bearing The Cardinal’s seal, “His eminence wishes for your attendance upon him,” She dipped a neat curtsey, “Good day, Your Grace.” 

 

d’Artagnan stood frozen for a moment, he watched as Madame de la Chapel glided across the marble floor, her skirts trailing elegantly behind her. Who was she? And what was she to Richelieu of all people? His Mistress perhaps? That did seem likely, though why he would use her and not a page to send a message d’Artagnan didn’t know, and wouldn’t until he read the summons. 

Moving to the relative safety of a corner, d’Artagnan opened the letter and began to read, there was nothing incriminating or worrisome, it was just a summons to the Chateau des Cardinal on the Afternoon. 

“Well, at least it gets me out of another boring afternoon here,” he mused to himself, folding the letter up and slipping it into his pocket, “Better go and select attire fit for an audience with His Eminence.”


	21. Chapter 21

Chaterlet Prison

 

Captain Jussac of the Red Guard was not a lover of torture. He was no coward, had killed many in battle, but there was a difference in fighting someone in battle and someone being restrained and brutalized. 

However, he understood that at times it was a necessary evil. 

This was one of those times.

Dujon, after learning that the only mercy he would be receiving from Louis was a swift death rather than being drawn and quartered, had decided to become shtum over Gourdet’s whereabouts, forcing them to resort to such methods to get him to spill the beans. 

Thankfully, he did not have to be the one doing the torture, that was being carried out by a professional, a large brute of a man who was very adept at breaking people’s wills, and delighted in doing so. 

 

Footsteps echoing down the corridor, had Jussac looking up, from where he’d been staring at the ground, not wanting to watch the proceedings, and he saw Boisrenard coming into the torture chamber, grimacing at the sight of Dujon on the Rack. 

“Has he said anything yet?” he asked, Jussac, 

“Oh plenty, God help him, Please no, I’ll see you all in hell, etc.., but nothing about Gourdet so far,” Jussac replied, rolling his eyes. He cringed as a crunching sound came from the Rack, and Dujon screamed, one of his bones breaking under the stress, 

“Plenty more where that came from, you shit!” the torturer chuckled, turning the wheel again, making Dujon howl, 

Jussac shook his head, swallowing back nausea, “Can you watch him for a bit? I need some air,” he said to Boisrenard, who nodded agreeably, calling out to him as he went, 

“Cahussac and Bernajoux are searching all Gourdet’s haunts again, seeing if they can’t turn something up. Hopefully they’ll get lucky and catch a lead,”

“Here’s hoping,” Jussac murmured, taking a flask from his pocket, popping the cork and taking a deep measure of brandy. He ignored the jeers from prisoners as he went through the prison and up into the open air, taking several deep gulps to clean his nose and lungs of the stench of the prison. 

In the yard some of the prisoners were working, under the watchful gaze of the guards. Bare footed, garbed in rags, filthy dirty, and painfully thin, it was hard not to feel pity for them. But Jussac knew better than to let that feeling take hold of him. Some of these poor wretches might learn their lesson and make an honest go of things on the outside, but many of them would not, many would just continue on as they had, thieving, pimping, killing. Some people could reform, but some, the hardened older ones? Those would not change, they were too set in theirs ways, would continue on until the found their end, either by the noose, or on the end of a blade when they pissed off the wrong person. 

Jussac took another swig of his brandy, glad that he did not have to stay overly long in the Chaterlet. It was a grim and depressing place to be at the best of times, and he pitied the guards who were on duty her daily. Well, the ones that didn’t get sadistic pleasure out of beating the prisoners anyway. 

“Enjoying the view?”

Jussac startled, spitting out brandy and spinning around with a hand on the hilt of his sword, cursing when he saw Milady de Winter standing behind him, a smirk on her face. 

“What are you doing here?” he growled, embarrassed by the fact she had been able to sneak up on him so easily, 

Milady continued to smirk, sauntering to the side of the battlement and looked down into the yard, “I thought I would share some information with you, friend to friend, as it were,”

Jussac scoffed, “When were we ever friends, Madame?” he asked, “Last I checked we were colleagues in the employ of His Eminence, and occasional bed mates.” 

Jussac and Milady had a casual relationship going on between them. It wasn’t love on either of their parts, more stress relief and gratification. They had a grudging respect for each other but no tenderness. 

“Forgive me for wanting to put things delicately,” Milady said, “But if you would prefer I be blunt..,”

“I’d prefer for you to tell me, why the hell you are here,” Jussac grunted, “Your presence will attract attention.” Women did not enter the Chaterlet, not unless they were prisoners, Milady had thought ahead on that, dressed in breeches, binding her breasts under a loose shirt and doublet, and pinning her hair up beneath a wide brimmed hat. At a distance one would think her a youth, or perhaps a tall Omega, but close up, it was clear to see that she was a woman in disguise. Her jaw and her hands gave her away, as did her voice. 

“Armand has discovered a potential…, well, ally might not be the right word, nor enemy for that matter, but some one of great import that I feel you too should be aware of.” She explained, “The Last Scion of The Valois.”

Jussac’s eyebrows reached for his hairline. “The Valois? You mean the Kings who preceded the Bourbon?” 

“The very ones,” Milady confirmed. “He is here, in Paris, at court,” she sniffed and chuckled, “Little more than a whelp. No threat, at least I do not think he is, but others may do so, and Armand is making contact with him.”

“Too what end?” Jussac asked and Milady shrugged, 

“I couldn’t say,” 

Jussac wanted to press her for more information, but at that moment, Boisrenard came up the stairs panting, “Dujon’s broken, he’s ready to talk,”

“You’d better go,” Milady said, tugging her hat lower over her face, 

“Keep me informed,” Jussac said to her, Milady nodded, going back down the battlement, and trailing a gloved hand over the wall as she went. 

“What’s going on?” Boisrenard asked as they headed for the cells, 

“Later,” Jussac said, “Lets deal with Dujon first.”

 

******

 

Palais des Cardinal 

 

The Palace that Richelieu had built for himself was almost as lavish and opulent as The Louvre and Fountain Bluer. 

d’Artagnan found himself staring in appreciation at the artistic designs, the costly drapes, tapestries, and renaissance art that adored the Palace, as he was led through the halls to Richelieu’s drawing room. 

 

Once again, the Cardinal was not wearing the crimson robes of his order, but his customary leather breeches, though his doublet was off, and he wore only a black shirt, with a solid silver crucifix hanging about his neck. 

He bid the servant to depart after d’Artagnan had been shown in, and bade for the Omega to take a seat.

“Wine?” he offered, going to a table where wine and cakes lay, 

“Please,” d’Artagnan said, his throat having gone dry. He also wanted something to occupy his hands, which were wringing nervously in his lap. To his credit they did not tremble when he took the cup from Richelieu and sipped the rich red. 

“No doubt you are wondering why I have summoned you here,” Richelieu said, taking his seat again, sipping at a cup of his own, “Well, I am not a man who likes to beat about the bush, so I will come right out and say why. I know who you are,”

d’Artagnan frowned, trying to look confused, though his dark eyes shone with fear, looking like that of a rabbit in a snare, 

“I do not intend you harm,” Richelieu said, “Not unless you intend to do harm to me, or the Monarchy, with some fool notion of taking the throne for yourself,”

d’Artagnan shivered and pressing his limbs closer together to retain warmth. He’d been in Paris only a few days, and already two people knew his secret! How many more would there be? At this rate he might as well shout it from the rooftops, all the good keeping things secret was doing for him!

Richelieu leaned forward, his dark eyes meeting d’Artagnan’s, his expression Fatherly and a pang went through d’Artagnan at the loss of his Father, he missed him so much, so very much. 

“I do not think you are a threat, Charles, may I call you Charles?” Mutely d’Artagnan nodded his consent, “Very well, Charles. I doubt you hold any plans for taking the throne. You have lead to quiet a life to this point, kept away from the court, and only come now to officially pledge allegiance to Louis as the new Lord Castlemore. So, I think that you will not do anything against The King,”

“I won’t,” d’Artagnan said, eager to assure the Cardinal of this. He may never have been to court, but he knew of Richelieu, of his power, the whole of France did, and d’Artagnan did not want this man as his enemy if he could help it. 

“I do not want The Throne. I have no desire to rule. I am satisfied and content with the lands I have, with the life I have. When this season ends I will go back to Gascony and never come back to Paris. You and Louis will never hear of me again.”

Richelieu nodded. There was every reason to think d’Artagnan was being sincere. He certainly seemed sincere. Yet, Richelieu could not help but to ask another question. He had not reached his level of office by taking things at face value. Yes d’Artagnan probably was innocent and being honest, but, there was still a chance that he was lying and Richelieu ahd to be sure before he backed off. 

“If you have no intentions of remaining in Paris, why court the Comtesse de Larroque?”

d’Artagnan chocked on his wine, and spent several second coughing to clear his throat, “Court? There is not courtship, we are acquittances, perhaps we shall become friends. But there is nothing romantic between us, I assure you, My Lord, besides..,” he broke off, flushing, 

“Besides?” Richelieu repeated, a small smirk curving his lips, “You have another in mind? A suitor back in Gascony perhaps?”

“No,” d’Artagnan said, “He’s, I mean.., it’s too soon after My Father’s death, I can’t be thinking of courtship, and he’s not in Castlemore, he doesn’t live there,”

Richelieu pursed his lips, “It would be a little scandalous, for you to court within six months of your Father’s death. But permissible. You are young, you should not be alone.” He leaned back in his seat, crossing his legs and sipping his wine leisurely, “So who is it then? Some Comte or Duc you have met at court?”

“No,” d’Artagnan said, “He’s a Musketeer.”

A Musketeer? Richelieu looked shocked at the notion of the Comte D’Artagnan falling for a common soldier, as would the rest of society for that matter. His rank meant he should only court an equal, at the very least a Baron, not a man of no means or rank beyond military. 

“Not that libertine Aramis, surely,” he said, dreading the outcome of such an affair. Likely it would end in tears and an out of wedlock pregnancy, that would shame d’Artagnan and very likely see Aramis hung!

“No, not Aramis,” d’Artagnan said, a slight smile curving his lips, “He is looking to court Dr Lemay, and the good Doctor is playing hard to get,”

“Good!” Richelieu said, “It’s about time that rogue had to work for his…, conquests. But who then, if not he?”

A shy, almost embarrassed smile adorned d’Artagnan’s face, and he looked down at his lap, “Athos,” he admitted. 

 

Athos. 

Well, that changed matters. Richelieu knew of Athos’ true identity. The Former Comte de la Fare would be a suitable match for the young Comte. An equal. A little old maybe, but that could be a good thing, he would provide stability for the young Comte. 

“Well,” he said, at length, “It will certainly be an interesting match if nothing else. Though how that will work with his duties as a Musketeer and you living in Gascony I do not know,”

“I know,” d’Artagnan sighed, “It probably won’t come to anything,” he prayed silently that it would, “But we’re going to talk when he gets back from his mission,”

“Hmm,” Richelieu nodded and offered the boy another Fatherly smile, “Well, I wish you all the best then, and hope that you and he will find a way to make things work.” 

This would certainly be an interesting story to tell Jean, later that night!

 

*****

 

Athos, Aramis and Porthos, came upon the massacre of Cornet and his men. 

Riding through the woods, with steep embankments either side of them, trees providing the perfect cover for snipers. They had stopped and searched, coming upon the stripped corpses that had been left out in the open, to be picked over by birds and animals. 

“Gourdet is a dead man,” Porthos snarled, kicking crows off the bodies of the fallen Musketeers, “leaving them here like trash, bastard has no honour!” Athos nodded, his face grim with equal anger at their brothers being slain like this, 

“We must bury them,” Aramis said, “We can’t leave them to be food for vermin,” 

“Aye,” Porthos agreed, “I’ll get a shovel,” he sighed, looking at them, “I wish we could do better than a mass grave,” 

“It’s too far to Paris and back to retrieve the bodies,” Athos said, regretfully, “We can’t leave them in the open any longer. This is the best we can do for them.”

“Still ain’t right,” Porthos grunted, going to get the shovel. 

Between them they dig a pit deep enough for all the bodies, then carefully lay the men down into the cold, damp earth. Aramis made the sign of the cross, and lead Athos and Porthos through prayers for their brothers, before helping to cover their bodies in earth. 

“Sleep well, my Brothers,” he whispered, as he placed a crude cross, made from two fallen branches into the ground, “I swear we shall avenge you.”


	22. Chapter 22

Dujon was snivelling pitifully as he sat on a stool, a broken arm cradled in his lap, and a broken leg stretched out before him. Both broken by his time on the rack. 

He stank of sweat, blood, and urine. A foul combination that soured the stale air and turned Jussac’s stomach.

“Lets get this done quick,” he said, pulling up a stool and sitting down before Dujon. “Speak.” He barked at the pitiful coward. 

“Water, please,” Dujon whimpered, 

“After you’ve spoken,” Jussac said, “So the sooner you speak, the sooner you get a drink,”

Dujon sniffed and lifted his good arm, wiping his nose on his sleeve, “Gordet knows of many hiding places in the city. He knows how to keep himself hidden at need. But he won’t abandon his men, not while they are still loyal. There is only one place he would take them to keep them from being found.”

“And where is that?” Jussac asked, leaning forward. 

“The old fort, just outside the city. He’d set up camp there.” Dujon broke down into tears, as Jussac rose from his stool. 

“Get him water, and a meal,” he ordered the punisher, “And get a physician to set his bones,” he added over his shoulder, as he and Boisrenard left the cell. 

“What do you want to do?” Boisrenard asked, as they hurried down the stone corridor, ignoring the cat calls, insults, and pleas for mercy, from the inhabitance of the cells they passed. 

“Find Cahussac and Bernajoux,” Jussac replied, “Then we go and see if Dujon is correct and Gordet has set camp in the old fort. There will be no point in telling Armand rumours, he will want fact alone.”

Boisrenard grunted his agreement and together the climbed the steps out of the prison, heading for the stables, to get their horses and ride out into the streets of Paris. 

 

They found Cahusac and Bernajoux quite quickly, and together, the four of them rode out to the old fort. Dismounting and leaving their horses, to climb the slope, belly down and close to the ground, to avoid being spotted by any men that Gordet may have on watch. 

Boisrenard had a spy glass, and used it to see the camp, “They’re there alright, and I can see a cart full of Musketeer uniforms,”

“Stolen uniforms,” Cahusac muttered, taking the glass and peering through the lense, “Looks like he’s no fool. Gordet. He has men on watch. Getting past them won’t be easy.”

“Not if Armand wants prisoners.” Boisrenard agreed, taking the spyglass back, and handing it to Jussac to take a look at what they were facing.

“We should speak to Armand,” he said, handing the spy glass back to Boisrenard, “Perhaps to Jean too. A combined Musketeer and Red Guard strike, may be the way to go here.”

 

*****

 

Palais des Cardinal 

 

Treville was bent double, his whole body shaking with laughter, as Richelieu told him of d’Artagnan and Athos’ infatuation with each other. 

He rarely got to see his stoic lover give into a full belly laugh, and it was always a pleasant sight when it happened. 

“Oh God! Athos, my grumpy sarcastic Lieutenant, smitten with a boy barely out of short trousers!” 

Richelieu snickered. It was hilarious as well as heart warming. Treville finally sat up, his face red with mirth and wiped tears from his eyes. 

“I’ll bet Athos is cursing up a blue streak over this,” he chuckled, laying back on the plush sofa, a hand over his stomach. His shirt was untucked, and his braces were hanging down from his shoulders, letting his breeches sag low on his hips. 

“You do not believe that the boy is any threat to Louis?” he asked, sobering a little, and inhaling deeply to catch his breath.

“No.” Richelieu confirmed, “He is determined to leave Paris as soon as the season ends. Has no desire for power or ruling. I do not believe he is a danger to Louis. But I think he might be in danger.”

Treville nodded, the smile falling from his lips, “Rochefort and Anne.”

Richelieu’s face screwed up in bitter disquiet, “He poisons her mind daily. Whispers falshoods into her ear, wrapping her about his finger and turning her against the rest of us.” He sighed heavily, “I wish to God he had never found his way out of that Spanish prison. That he’d stayed there, rotting for the rest of his miserable existence.” He jerked his head, as Treville’s clever fingers stroked the back of his neck, softly at first, then began to massage his neck, easing the tension that came from being bent over papers all day. 

“He’ll trip himself up sooner or later,” Treville said, adding a little more force to the massage, as Richelieu groaned in pleasure, “Men like that always do. He is all arrogance, he believes himself untouchable. He does not make back up plans, because he does not ever think that he will fail.” Treville paused, leaning forward and kissing Richelieu’s temple, “He is not like you. He does not plan for all outcomes. For all eventualities as you do,” More kisses over Richelieu’s face, and lips brushing over his ear, “That’s why you always succeed.”

“Always.” Richelieu whispered, blinking open one eye, “As I succeeded in seducing you?”

Treville gave a scandalized peal of laughter. “You seduced me? I rather think it was the other way around. Your memory must be failing with age!”

Richelieu was appropriately affronted and with a rare display of physical prowess, grabbed Treville and bent him back over the sofa, pinning him there with his arms above his head, grinding their cocks together. 

“I think that you need a lesson in respecting your elders, my impudent Captain, perhaps you have taken too many blows to the head and are suffering the results of having your brain rattled,”

“I’ll rattle yours in a minute!” Treville growled, trying to throw Richelieu off him, but only succeeded in thrusting their pelvises together all the more and groaned in pleasure at the sensation that flowed through his being. 

“You were saying, my love?” Richelieu chuckled, leaning down to kiss Treville’s mouth, tenderly at first, then with hunger, their lips and tongues dancing and fighting for dominance. 

As he released Treville’s arms, they ran their hands over each other, pulling off clothing and bearing their flesh to one another, and grinding their bodies together with increasing ferver. 

Richelieu was just reaching down to undo his breeches when there came a choked cough from behind him and a smattering of laughter. 

Cursing under his breath, Richelieu turned and saw Jussac with his three conspirators standing in the door way, all four smirking in amusement at catching him with his trousers down.

“Can’t you four knock?” he asked, sitting up and hurriedly pulling back on his shirt, very aware of how red his cheeks were. Treville, did the same, and ran a hand through his thinning hair, trying to make himself a little more presentable. 

“Very sorry for the intrusion, Eminance,” Jussac said, a grin still on his face, “We do have a good reason for being here though.”

“You better had,” Richelieu grunted, “Or I’ll see all four of you swinging from a rope!”

It was an idle threat that held no fear for the four Red Guards who knew Richelieu well, and didn’t so much as blink at the threat. 

“We’ve found Gordet’s camp,” Bernajoux said, “He’s hold up in the old fort outside the city. It’s a well fortified camp, he’s ready for a fight and will make any attempt to arrest him difficult and bloody.”

Richelieu grumbled under his breath and scowled unhappily, while Treville looked intrigued, “What chances are of infiltrating the camp?”

“Slim,” Boisrenard replied, “He’s got the place well guarded. We could take out on or two guards, but by the time we’d reloaded our pistols they would be ready to strike.”

“We’ll need a distraction, something they wouldn’t suspect,” Treville mused, there came a knock on the door, and Richelieu’s Usher came in, bowing, 

“Sorry to interrupt your Eminense, but I have a message from the garrison for Captain Treville,” 

Treville rose from the sofa and took the letter, breaking the seal and opening it. He quickly scanned the letter and slipped it into his pocket, 

“I must go,” he said, apologetically, “Athos, Aramis, and Porthos have returned.”

 

*****

 

Garrison

 

Athos, Aramis, and Porthos had an hour at the garrison to refresh themselves, after their long and hard ride. Each washing, changing their clothes, and taking a meal and wine at their favourite table in the court yard before Treville returned. 

However, when he did, he was not alone. 

d’Artagnan had grown bored waiting for Athos at court. There was only so much gossip mongering and frivolity that he could stand. He was a down to earth person at the core and had decided to go and spend some time with The Kings elite. Bringing with him a generous picnic of wines, cheeses, fruits, cold meats, bread, and pastries. 

He ran into Treville as he had been making his way to the garrison, the two of them riding in together, surprising Athos into actually setting down his wine! 

 

“D’Artagnan, I mean, Your Grace,” Athos stammered, “Captain,” he stared at d’Artagnan in wonderment, the Omega grinning at him, 

“I thought I would come and spread some cheer among your brothers-in-arms,” d’Artagnan explained, taking the brimming picnic hamper from the young page who had ridden with him and carried it to the tables in the garrison. “I thought that Kings finest could enjoy some fine food and drink for all their labours.” 

The mention of food and drink was music to the soldiers ears, and all were soon swarming around the Omega, hungry eyes and greedy hands latching onto the treats in the picnic hamper.

“Hey, hey, show some manners you louts!” Athos scolded them, “Don’t crowd him!”

“It’s fine,” d’Artagnan assured him, smiling at the soldiers enthusiasm, and gratitude. Athos was not happy though, and insisted on escorting d’Artagnan out of the crowd, taking him up the wooden balconey towards Treville’s quarters, where Treville was speaking with Porthos and Aramis, they having told him of the bodies they had discovered and buried on the roadside. 

“Well if we know where Gordet is, lets go and get him!” Porthos growled, keen to get vengeance for his fallen brothers, 

“Jussac says that the camp is well guarded, getting into the camp will not be easy, and they are on the right side of the fort, they have the high ground to their advantage.” Treville said, “I do not want this becoming a massacre, enough lives have been lost. Musketeer lives at least.”

“I suppose The Cardinal wants prisoners?” Aramis asked, and took his answer from Treville’s expression. 

“What’s this?” d’Artagnan asked, curiously, 

“Nothing to concern you, your Grace,” Treville said, offering the boy a smile, “Musketeer business,”

“About Gordet, and the men who attacked us on the road?” d’Artagnan pressed, stepping into the office, “Has he been found?”

Treville rose and eyebrow and looked pointedly at Athos who shrugged helplessly, while Aramis answered d’Artagnan. 

“He has. He and his men are hold up outside the city. We’re trying to devise a strategy to gain access to the camp and arrest he and his men without more of our brothers being slain.”

“A diversion would be useful,” Porthos said, “Something to distract them, get them to let their guard down.”

“Great,” Athos said, stoping into the office and leant back against the wall, “What though?”

d’Artagnan frowned, a thought taking shape in his mind, “I might have an idea….”


	23. Chapter 23

“This is a terrile idea,” 

Aramis looked to Porthos who rolled his eyes. This was the tenth time that Athos had uttered those very words and was continuing to pace back and forth in front of them, as they lounged at their favourite table in the garrison. The rest of the Muskteers had been making the most of the picnic spread and going about their business, sparring, grooming their horses, or just sitting around and talking.

“We should not be doing this,” Athos said, “It is a terrible idea!”

“So you keep saying,” Porthos sighed, “Yet this is what we are doing, what the Captain agreed to us doing.”

“And we should not be,” Athos spat, kicking at the mud beneath his boot, “Putting that, that child in danger like this!”

Aramis rose an eyebrow, “Child?” Athos looked up at him with narrowed eyes, 

“What of it?” he demanded, “The boy is little more than a child,”

“More than enough to have had a child of his own, and to have captured your jaded eye,” Aramis counterted. He sat back folding his arms and crossing his legs, “I did think that this might just be infatuation at first, an Alpha rapidly approaching middle age having his head turned by a pretty young omega. But that is not the case is it? You are actually in love with him aren’t you?”

Aramis let out a small laugh that was not mocking or malicious, “I never thought I would see the day that you of all people would be shot by cupids arrow,”

“Must you speak like a poetry book?” Porthos groaned, he gestured to Athos, “So he loves the boy, and anyone with eyeballs can see that the boy feels the same for him. Its as simple as that.”

“None of this is simple,” Athos ground out, He gazed at his two friends, incredulous at their inability to see how difficult this was, “You know who I am, the both of you. You know why this is not easy.”

Aramis’ smile fell away and he rose from his seat, going over to Athos and wrapped an arm about his shoulders. 

“I know you have been hurt in the past. That you have been betrayed in the worst ways possible. But this is a new chance for you, a chance to have the kind of marriage that you hoped for.”

“I had that with her too,” Athos murmured, “At least for a while, before her lies were revealed and she killed Thomas.” Aramis rubbed his back and squeezed his shoulder, 

“That isn’t d’Artagnan though,” Porthos said, getting to his feet, and placing his own large hand on Athos’s other shoulder, “D’Artagnan is an innocent,”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” Aramis murmured.

Porthos and Athos frowned and turned in the direction that Aramis was looking, their mouths dropping open and eyes bugging from the sockets as they saw d’Artagnan returning to the garrison. 

“Holy Mary, Mother of God!” Porthos stuttered out,

“I don’t think it is appropriate to invoke the name of the blessed Virgin in this instance,” Aramis murmured, he glanced at Athos out of the corner of his eye, “And we should probably sit Athos down and get him a cold drink before he has a brain seizure or something!”

Under normal circumstances Athos would probably have slapped Aramis upside the head for such a comment, but at present he was unable to do anything but watch as d’Artagnan strutted, actually strutted into the garrison looking like one of the most expensive whores that flaunted their wares in Madame Angels. 

 

*****

d’Artagnan had explained the plan to Constance who had been both shocked and amused by it. She had also agreed to help d’Artagnan get suitably dressed for the occasion. 

First she had painted his face heavily in make-up. Coating his skin in a paste of egg whites, sandlewood, and bismuth. Then surrounded his eyes and coated the lids in thick lines of black kohl, drawing out thin flicked lines from the corner of his eyes like the Ancient Egyptians used to wear. She gave his cheeks a light blush of powdered rose petals, and added a light shadow of powdered violet petals to d’Artagnan’s eyelids, finishing the touch with coating of cochneal to d’Artagnan’s lips colouring them a rich cherry red. 

For his clothing they took his tightest leather breeches, tieing only the bottom laces low over his hips and rolling down the waist band so they hung perilously low, leaving his hip bones and lower belly bare. He wore no shirt and took his smallest, most revealing jerkin, having Constance tie the laces at the back as tight as they would go, making it more like a corset than a jerkin, and left the top button in the front open and the material that was tight about his waist, sagging over his shoulders and revealing his chest.

 

“Be safe,” she said, helping him hide a main gauche beneath the fold of his breeches.

“I’ll be in the company of Musketeers, what could be safer than that?” d’Artagnan asked, wrapping a cloak about his shoulders and pulling the hood up, he would discard it at the garrison but it would not do to be seen walking through court in such a state of undress.

Constance harrumphed, “It seems to me they bring nothing but trouble!” d’Artagnan grinned and gave her a light kiss on the cheek, 

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised, “Keep Evony out of trouble, if possible,”

“Keep yourself out of trouble,” Constance shot back, “And let those Musketeers know that if anything happens to you, they’ll be feeling the back of my hand!”

d’Artagnan snorted, “I get the feeling that Aramis for one would probably enjoy that!”

 

 

He rode to the garrison swiftly, throwing back the hood of his cloak and revealed his attire as he dismounted and walked up to where the inseparables were standing, gaping at him like slack jawed idiots outside a tavern after a nights consumption.

“What?” he asked, “Have you never seen an Omega before?” 

“Not one so high born dressed like that!” Aramis replied, looking d’Artagnan over, “You could earn yourself a fortune if you walked the streets of Paris!” he let out a yelp as Athos’ boot connected with his ankle!

“You can’t go about like that!” Athos said, taking the folds of d’Artagnan’s cloak and wrapping it about him to cover him up, very aware of the Musketeers that had all stopped doing whatever it was they had been doing to eye the young Omega appreciatively, 

“I’m supposed to be a whore,” d’Artagnan said, shoving Athos’ hands off, “Gordet’s men need to believe it.”

“Even a blind man would believe it, with you dressed like that!” Porthos chortled, getting a glare from Athos, before he turned back to d’Artagnan, meeting his painted eyes, 

“You don’t have to do this,” he said to the Omega, “You can let us handle this, go back to the palace..,”

“And what?” d’Artagnan asked, cutting him off, “Hide away behind the stone walls, cowering in terror while the big brave Alphas and Betas go off to fight?” he scoffed and shook his head, “My Father raised me to be strong enough to fight for myself. To stand tall and never let Alphas and Betas make me feel inferior because I was to bear young rather than sire it.”

“I know that,” Athos said, “And I respect it, but I do not want to see you hurt.”

As much as d’Artagnan wanted to stand on his pride, he couldn’t help but be moved by the genuine concern he saw shining in Athos’ eyes. He cupped the mans stubbled cheek and smiled kindly, “I will be fine,” he promised, “All I am doing is distracting the guards, it’ll be you and the others who will be doing the fighting, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Athos agreed, still unhappy about this,

“Well then,” d’Artagnan said, stepping back, “Its settled, and we should go should we not?”

“We should,” Aramis agreed, brightly, “The sooner we’re there, the sooner this is over and we can all look to more… pleasant activities.” 

He didn’t need to elaborate, his wiggling eyebrows were enough to make clear what he was referring to, Porthos chuckled under his breath and Athos growled low in his throat, trying not to look at d’Artagnan’s swaying hips as he made his way back to his horse, or the expance of his thights as he mounted the patient beast. 

“This is going to be a nightmare,” he muttered as he headed to the stables, “An utter nightmare.”

 

*****

 

The Musketeers and the Red Guards lay in wait as d’Artagnan sauntered to the draw bridge before the old fort. 

“He’s nobility ain’t he?” Boisrenard asked, nodding his head in d’Artagnan’s direction, 

“He is,” Athos grunted by way of confirmation, 

“Wouldn’t know it, with him dressed like that!” Cahusac snickered, “God, I swear, if it wouldn’t get me hung, I’d happily help myself to that!”

Athos growled, “Say that again and you won’t need the rope to end your miserable life.”

Cahusac’s eyebrows rose up to the brim of his hat, he looked over Athos’s shoulder to Aramis and Porthos. Aramis shrugged and rolled his eyes heavenward and Porthos chuckled darkly, 

“It seems like a dour Lieutenant is Omega-struck!” Bernajoux murmured, he clasped Cahusac on the shoulder, “I’d keep clear of that young filly if I were you, or you’ll end up on the wrong end of Athos’ sword.”

Athos grumbled and turned his attention back to d’Artagnan who had attracted the attention of the guard on duty. 

 

Swaying his hips and plastering a smile onto his painted face. D’Artagnan sauntered up to the guard, rested a hand on the rope side of the draw bridge and leant forward, giving the guard a good view down his jerkin. 

“Fifty sous, and I’ll take you to heaven,” he purred,

The guard frowned, “Are you one of those religious nut jobs?” 

Internally d’Artagnan sighed and rolled his eyes at the morons stupidity. 

“Never mind,” he muttered, struggling to keep the smile on his face. 

“You, can do whatever you like,” he said to the guard, moving closer to him and running his fingers down the mans doublet, “I’m all yours, clear enough?” 

This was clear enough for the idiot, he looked d’Artagnan over, like a man deciding whether or not to purchase wares at a market stool. “Five sous?” he asked, 

“Five!” d’Artagnan cried, outraged, 

“Alright ten!” the guard haggled, 

“Fine!” d’Artagnan muttered, and grit his teeth as the guard wrapped his arms about him and began to slobber on his throat, he thankfully did not have to wait for long, as Porthos’s gun came down over the back of the guards head, knocking him unconscious. The guard slumped heavily over d’Artagnan, who had to support him as the Musketeers and Red Guard hid down in the shadows as another of Gaudet’s men walked down the battlements and called out to them, 

“Hey, my turn next!” 

“Fuck sakes!” d’Artagnan muttered, his nose wrinkling at the stench of sweat from the guard laying over him. Porthos lifted the mans limp hand and waved it, urging the second guard along. He took the guard from d’Artagnan and quietly moved down the draw bridge, 

“Ten sous?” Aramis quipped as he went past the Omega, “Shame on you!” 

“Fuck you!” d’Artagnan shot back, scowling at him darkly, 

“Oh I like him!” Cahusac chuckled, going after Aramis, followed by Bernajoux, Boisrenard, and Jussac. 

Athos brought up the rear, wrapping his cloak about d’Artagnan’s shoulders and pressed his pistol into the Omega’s hands, “If you get into any danger use this,”

“Won’t you need it?” d’Artagnan asked, but Athos gestured to his hip, where a second pistol lay, 

“Stay here,” The Alpha said, “I’ll be back soon.”

 

d’Artagnan watched as Athos followed after the others, going across the draw bridge and into the old fort, then, after a few moments, stole after them himself, nearly tripping over the guard that Porthos had knocked out, and the second guard that lay not to far from him, also knocked out. 

He took the maine gauche from within the folds of his breeches and held it like a sword and kept to the shadows waiting for the Musketeers and Red Guard to strike. 

Aramis and Boisrenard got into position as snipers, taking the pistols from their fellows and took aim. 

“We want a couple alive to testify, remember,” Jussac said, 

Aramis silently nodded and blew on the fuse, silently he counted to five then fired followed a second later by Cahusac.   
Two of Gaudet’s men fell to the ground dead, followed by two more and then another three as Aramis and Cahusac emptied the pistols and harquebus. As they stopped to reload, Athos lead the charge into the camp, and d’Artagnan did the same. 

 

Caught unawares, Gaudet and his man had no time to prepare. They had been sitting around the fires drinking and eating before the arrival of the Musketeers and Red Guards and were sluggish with the consumption of meat, bread, and wine, staggering to their feet and fumbling for the weapons as the men charged them, disarming the ones they came upon first quickly, and evading the blows that the others tried to deal them. 

More fell to the sharp eyed shots from Aramis and Cahusac, some mortally wounded, others clipped in the legs to prevent them from fleeing. 

The biggest of the rogue Bastile guards challenged Porthos, going hand to hand with him, but while he had brute strength on his side, he did not have Porthos’ skills or wiles. The Musketeer was able to twist out of his grips and deliver quicker moves to him than the guard was capable of evading. A knee to the gut had him doubled over and a blow across his back had him on the ground where Porthos knocked him unconscious and shot a grin to where he knew Aramis was positioned.

Athos parried with one of the guards, unaware of a second creeping up behind him as he knocked the sword from the mans hands and brought the hilt of his own across the idiots head. 

A gun shot from behind him, had him spinning around and seeing the man who’d been about to stab him in the back, falling to the ground, a smoking and bleeding bullet wound to his chest. Athos looked up and saw d’Artagnan standing across the battle field, the pistol he’d given him in his hand. 

He opened his mouth to say something, but Jussac yelled out,

“Gaudet is getting away!”

 

Athos whipped his head around, searching out for Gaudet, saw him running to where the horses were tethered. Cursing, Athos lifted his sword and began to run, but it seemed d’Artagnan had already been on the move, and he reached Gaudet before Athos could, pulling him down from his horse as he tried to mount and punched the man in the face, moving to flip them over, but Gaudet backhanded him and wrapped his hands about the Omega’s throat, squeezing tight. 

“I don’t know who you are, whore, but I don’t have time for you!” he spat, then let out a hoarse cry as d’Artagnan sank a Maine gauche into his side, through his liver.

Coughing, d’Artagnan shoved Gaudet off him, pulling his blade free from the mans side and staggered to his feet, just as Athos arrived and ran Gaudet through with his sword.

“What part of stay there did you not understand?” the Alpha panted, “Do you have a death wish? Or are you so desperate to prove yourself as strong as an Alpha that you insist on putting yourself in unnecessary danger at every turn?” d’Artagnan’s hand slapped Athos’ face hard enough to make his head turn to the side. Wincing, Athos turned back and looked at d’Artagnan’s storm dark glare, 

“I need prove myself to no Man or Woman, be they Alpha, Beta, or Omega. I am the Comte D’Artagnan, a land owner in my own right, a swordsman, a pistol shot, horseman, and more importantly an Oman.” He lifted his chin high regarding Athos with an ice cold expression, “I do not answer to you, a mere soldier in service to the King, and I will not be lectured to as though you were my better!” He resheethed his blade and handed Athos back his pistol and cloak, “I trust you can get these men to chaterlet without my aid?” 

Athos nodded once, his jaw clenched tight, 

“Good, then our business is concluded,” d’Artagnan said, without waiting for Athos to reply he walked back up the slope and into the fort, making his way back to where the horses were, refusing to give into the sting of the tears in his eyes, not letting them fall.


	24. Chapter 24

Louvre

 

D’Artagnan was seething when he got back to the palace. 

He couldn’t remember a time when he had ever been this angry with anyone, but right now he was furious with Athos.

“Of all the self-righteous, pompous, arrogant, assholes in the world!” He spat, as he stormed into his chambers, slamming the door behind him as he went. 

Constance looked up from the chaise, where she had been darning a stocking, and rose an eyebrow, “Well, someone’s had a good night, I see!” She drawled, her lips curling with amusement. 

d’Artagnan shot her a dark look as he poured himself a cup of wine and downed the lot in one go, then poured another. 

“Hey, slow down.” Contance said, putting aside her sewing and rising from the chaise, “I know you’re upset, but drinking isn’t going to solve anything and you’ll end up making yourself sick.”

“I’m already sick.” D’Artagnan grunted, downing the second cup and going for a third, but Constance took the wine away before he could have another cup. 

“I’m sick of Alpha’s, sick of them thinking that they know everything, and that we’re nothing but fragile little dolls that have to be protected from the big bad world, and can’t be trusted to take care of ourselves, or make decisions for ourselves.” He let out a huff and threw himself down onto the chaise, nearly sitting on Constance’s sewing, but quickly moved it out of the way before he got a needle in his backside.

“Would this be all Alpha’s or just one in particular?” Constance asked, taking the sewing from him and clucking her tongue as he put his feet up onto the coffee table, getting mud onto it, which the maids would have to clean up in the morning.

She sighed at d’Artagnan’s dark scowl and morose expression, and sat down on the sofa, smoothing her skirts beneath her. “What happened?” she asked, “Did you and Athos fight?”

“He’s an asshole.” D’Artagnan grunted, pulling at the threads of his jerkin. 

“Ah, asshole. That explains everything.”

d’Artagnan narrowed his eyes and glared at her. “You are no help.” He growled and pushed himself up from the chaise, heading to the bell cord and pulling it to summon the maid. 

“Did everything go alright though?” Constance asked, “Did you capture Gordet and his men?”

“Yeah, we got ‘em.” D’Artagnan said, “And Athos got pissy because I fought Gordet against his orders.” He made his voice squeeky and did air quotes as he said this. “Asshole! Treating me like I’m one of his little soldiers, thinking he can boss me around and act like he’s got a right to tell me what I can and cannot do!”

“Hmm.” Constance nodded her head and tried to hide her smile. She’d never seen d’Artagnan acting like this before, probably because he’d never courted anyone but his late husband. This was a lovers tiff, he was so pissed of about it and unable to let it go that it was clear that he was crazy about Athos, otherwise he wouldn’t be so upset. 

“Yes, your Grace?” The maid asked, as she came into the chambers. Her eyes widened when she saw d’Artagnan’s attire and quickly averted her gaze. 

“I’d like a bath, please.” D’Artagnan said. He didn’t have to say please, he could just make it an order, but he had been raised to be polite. 

“Certainly, your Grace.” The maid said, bobbing a curtsey and scurried out of the chambers, likely in a hurry to gossip about d’Artagnan being dressed up like a whore, rather than to get the hot water for his bath. 

“You know, Athos was probably just worried about you.” Constance offered, “He was probably scared you’d get hurt.”

“Why are you taking his side?” 

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are, you’re defending him.”

“And you’re in love with him!” 

d’Artagnan’s mouth dropped open and he gaped at Constance, before scoffing, “I am not!”

“Really?” Constance sounded about as convinced of this, as she would be if a drunken idiot declared himself the King of England!”

“Yes, really.” D’Artagnan grumbled, “I’m not in love with that pompous ass. I don’t even like him!” He glared at Constance’s knowing smirk and stomped off to his bedroom, to change out of his clothes and get ready for his bath. 

“I’m not in love with Athos.” He told himself, unlacing his jerkin. “He’s annoying, and over bearing, and a total pain in the ass. I don’t love him at all.” 

Except for his grey/blue eyes, strong curve of his jaw, the way his lips were slightly puckered with the scar….

“Fuck it!” he cursed, kicking his boots across the room. “I don’t love him and that is it.”

“Sure it is!” Constance unhelpfully called from the parlour. 

“Drop dead of something painful!” d’Artagnaned sniped back, getting his robe and slumping down onto his bed, trying desperately to think of something other than Athos. 

 

*****

 

Garrison

 

“Foolish, arrogant, head strong, brat!” Athos growled, as he poured himself a cup of wine, “What the hell was he thinking, taking on Gordet like that? Does he have a death wish or something?” 

He wasn’t really speaking to either Aramis or Porthos, but Aramis couldn’t resist answering anyway. 

“He was just trying to help. I’m sure.” He held up his hands in a sign of peace when Athos shot him a death glare.

“The kid can fight.” Porthos said, “He’s got talent and skill with a blade.”

“But no experience.” Athos snapped, scowling darkly down into his wine. “He’s so hell bent on trying to prove something that he doesn’t stop to think anything through, he just goes and does it without a seconds hesitation, regardless of what it could mean for him!”

Porthos turned and looked over his shoulder at Aramis, who grinned back at him. 

Athos had been grumbling about d’Artagnan since they’d gotten back from depositing Gordet’s men at the Chaterlet, getting more and more grouchy and vitriolic as time went on and more wine was consumed. 

“He could have been killed, you know?” Athos said, looking up at his friends now, “He could have died because his own stupidity.”

“I doubt it.” Porthos snickered, “Gordet can’t fight for shit, and that little whelp packs a wollop!”

“He’s not a whelp!” Athos sharply reprimanded, making Porthos raise his eyebrows, “You should show respect.” Athos mumbled, looking down at his wine again, trying not to think about d’Artagnan’s dark eyes, or his full lips, the ripe curve of his backside. 

“Athis is right, you know?” Aramis said, getting to his feet, and going over to the battered metal tin he kept cakes and biscuits in, opening it up and pulled out some Florentines, he offered the tin to Porthos, who pulled out a macaroon, and then to Athos who shook his head. 

“What d’you mean, ‘Thos is right?” Porthos asked, stuffing the sweet into his mouth and chewed messily. He might show manners when in company, but he didn’t give a damn when he was just with his friends.

“That d’Artagnan isn’t a whelp.” Aramis replied, retaking his seat and began to nibble at his Florentines. “He’s his future mate.”

Athos coughing and spluttered, spraying wine from his lips and struggled for air at Aramis’s words. “What?” he croaked.

“He’s your future mate.” Aramis replied, continuing to eat his biscuits, while Porthos laughed at Athos’s choking fit. “It’s perfectly obvious. What with the way you’ve been ranting about him since your tiff…”

“It wasn’t a tiff, it was a disagreement.”

“Sounded more like a bitch fight to me.” Porthos offered, grinning unrepentantly while Athos glowered at him. 

“Athos.” Aramis said, leaning forward and looking at him seriously. “Take it from one who is well versed in matters of the heart.”

“And by matters of the heart, he means bedding everything that moves!” Aramis shot Porthos a sharp look, 

“Just because you’ve only slept with about two people your whole life, doesn’t mean that the rest of us need to live like we’re eunuchs.”

“Well at least I’ve never had to jump out of a second story window to escape my mistresses husband!”

“Could you get to the point, if you have one at all?” Athos sighed, leaning back in his chair. The wine was making his sleepy, and he wasn’t in the mood for listening to one of Aramis and Porthos’s long drawn out debates. 

“Certainly.” Aramis replied, turning back to him. “It is clear that you are in love with our little Gascon Comte. You can’t stop thinking about him, you were terrified for his safety, and scolded him for placing himself in potential danger, and now that you’ve argued with him, you are morose and irritable because you really want to go and make up with him.”

“Umm, to be fair, he’s always morose and irritable.” Porthos offered, and Aramis shrugged in agreement. 

“Even if that were true, and I am not saying it is.” Athos said, “What are the chances that he would want to speak to me again?” 

“You don’t know if you don’t try.” Aramis said, giving him a small encouraging smile. “Why don’t you go and see him in the morning, give him your best apology..”

“Me! It’s him that needs to apologize!”

“Apologize to him and accept his apology, and then make up with him.” Aramis said, sitting back in his seat and bite into his remaining Florentines. “I’ll bet he’s feeling just as upset as you, right now.”

“Sure.” Athos scoffed, raising his wine to his lips. His pride said he would not go to the Louvre and apologize, would not ask for forgiveness and make up with d’Artagnan. But his heart said that he would. He’d have to. He’d never be able to concentrate on anything until he did.


End file.
